Strength of Will, Power of Knowledge
by Phantom of the Library
Summary: At the end of Harry’s second year, he was exposed to something… amazing, and a boy’s natural curiosity evolves into a thirst to understand magic. A more determined Harry Potter starts his third year ready to take on the wizarding world. HarryxGirlNoSlash
1. Intrigue Shall Spawn Brilliance

Strength of Will, Power of Knowledge

At the end of Harry's second year, he was exposed to something… amazing, and a boy's natural curiosity evolves into a thirst to understand magic. A more determined Harry Potter starts his third year ready to take on the wizarding world.

Chapter One:

Intrigue Shall Spawn Brilliance

Harry's eyes fluttered and attempted to stay open as he desperately fought unconsciousness. His arm felt like it had been injected with liquid fire, and he could barely feel the sword he was grasping on to with all his strength.

"You may have killed my Basilisk, boy, but it doesn't matter anymore; soon I shall drain the last of this child's life and I will be reborn." Tom jeered. The adolescent phantom from the diary was actually Lord Voldemort, the real Heir of Slytherin. "It won't be long now." He reached down with a pale grainy hand and stroked Ginny's face. "And my first act will be killing you!"

Tom's eyes were an unholy red, lodged into a black and white body, and as they bore holes into Harry, he began to chant. It was a hideous language, Harry couldn't even begin to understand it, but he knew each word contained an inconceivable evil.

Harry began to rage inside his own mind. 'Get up. Get up, Harry!' His small hands pushed against the stone floor, but his body refused to rise. 'Get up! Get up now or Ginny is going to die!' As Tom's chanting began to increase pace, Harry slowly, painfully pushed himself to his knees.

His eyes roamed the floor in search of the diary. He didn't know how to explain it, but he somehow _knew _that he had to destroy it. He spied the book next to Tom's feet, but as Harry approached him in long, painful lurches, the chanting suddenly changed tone and pitch, and a grey dome of energy exploded outwards from Tom. Harry tentatively reached out with his free hand, and jerked it back while howling in pain. The shield had burned his hand intensely.

'I've got to do something!' He was getting more and more desperate. All of his focus was on the dome now, every ounce of himself wanted that barrier to break apart and let him through. Then… he felt something, it was responding to him. The fire in his right arm was replaced by a sense of restlessness, like his arm was filled with boundless energy. He looked down at his hand and watched in amazement as the Sword of Gryffindor came to life. Strange markings that were previously invisible flared into existence. Eerie green light pulsed up the markings on the blade in a wave motion.

_Thump-thump._

Harry jumped slightly as he _heard _the sword's 'heart beat.' It was perfectly timed with the light coming from the markings as they shot up the blade.

_Thump-thump_

This time Harry heard the sound from insidehimself, and he belatedly realised it had never been the sword; it was his own heart. With every passing millisecond Harry felt his own body pumping raw power into the sword, and his whole being felt saturated in unburdened _life; _body, mind and soul. It was the most amazing thing he had ever experienced.

Harry viciously swung the sword forward, and he was rewarded as he felt the barrier tear apart like so much wet tissue paper, and the room echoed with the sound of cannon fire.

Tom flew back as if he was struck by a real cannon shot, and his almost corporeal body smashed into the wall behind him with a sickening thud. His eyes fluttered open as he looked up at Harry, who was staggering to the diary. "This isn't possible! I will not be defeated by a mere child!" But even as he shouted, Harry was already towering over the book with a look of determination.

"Goodbye, Tom." Harry plunged the sword downward and pinned the diary to the floor. It started to release a putrid black blood, and then it violently exploded, with Tom suffering the same fate.

The last fleeting images Harry saw before darkness claimed him was Fawkes lowering his tear filled eyes to him. 'Tears for the dead, Fawkes?'

Then he saw nothing.

XXX

"… umbledore, I found him! He looks…"

"… Poppy, fetch Severus. We need the anti…"

"He seems to be stabilizing. I thought we'd lost him…"

"Mr. Potter, are you awake?" Harry slowly opened his eyes, and he was assaulted by glaring white ceiling. He promptly closed them again.

"Good, he's up." Harry couldn't pick the voice out, but it sounded familiar.

"Ah, fantastic! Would you give us a moment of privacy, Poppy?" Harry heard the first voice stutter out an argument, but he soon heard the door open and close, signifying their departure. As he tentatively opened his eyes again, Harry found himself looking up into the warm, comforting eyes of the Headmaster.

"Good to see you among the living, Harry. I must say, you've had a great deal of people very worried about you." Dumbledore seemed almost… amused. "But, I must ask you to tell me what happened down in the chamber."

After shaking the cobwebs from his head, Harry began to slowly recount everything that had happened. Then finally, he tried, and failed, to explain what had happened with the sword. By the end of it, Dumbledore had leaned back into his plush arm chair, and wore a very serious expression on his face.

"Harry, what you did last night was something very few people have done. The feeling of 'life' as you describe it was your body responding to pure magic." As Dumbledore spoke, he slowly began to lean forward. "Do you know what the purpose of a wand is, Harry?"

Harry's mind jumped slightly at the question. "No, sir."

"You see, Harry, a wand is not responsible for any of the magic a wizard can produce; every ounce of magic you create comes directly from your magical core. The entire purpose of a wand is to do two things: To give the caster a magical 'focus' so they can shape the spell, and to create a bridge of sorts to the magical core."

Dumbledore didn't speak in the usual clinical business voice that most teachers did; he spoke as if he was learning the subject with you, and was incredibly interested. Harry found himself enthralled to each word, and drank them in immediately.

"At the very center of the wand is the 'core.' This acts as a direct bridge to your magic and the wand. There are several types of cores, but all of them are magical in nature. When choosing a wand, the core most often determines whether it will work, because it has to be in sync with the magical core in your body.

"The type of wood your wand is made of acts as the focus, but each type responds differently to a person's magic. So, even though the focus is less important, it still affects the spells."

"But, Professor," Harry started, "I didn't have my wand when I destroyed the barrier, and it definitely didn't feel like any magic I've used before."

"Exactly, Harry!" Dumbledore made it seem like Harry had just told him the secret of life. "What you did in the chamber was completely different. The sword you drew from the hat is very special, and was created by Godric Gryffindor himself."

"But, sir, what's special about it?" Harry knew there certainly was _something _special about the sword, but he didn't even know how to describe it.

"It is not that the sword itself is special, Harry, but the process it went through is. You told me there was 'strange markings' on the sword, did you not?" Harry nodded yes, so Dumbledore continued, "Those markings are called Runes; they are the ancient language of magic, and each symbol has a meaning. The Runes on the sword allow you to do several things, but, most importantly, it lets you use it as a magical focus."

Realization flashed through Harry's eyes. "So that's why I could cast magic without my wand?"

"Yes, Harry, it allowed you to channel the spell." Dumbledore said this in a way that told Harry something was missing.

"There's more to it though, isn't there?" Dumbledore nodded yes. "The sword provided a focus…" Harry's eyes filled with understanding. "It provided a focus but not a core!"

Dumbledore gave a wide smile. "Exactly, Harry. That's why it felt so different from regular magic, because when you cast the spell the magic could not go directly from core to core, it first had to travel through your body. That's the feeling you experienced; your own power."

The implications this idea provided were huge. Until a moment ago, Harry was positive the sword had granted him some kind of great power. But he was wrong; the power had been him all along. But, the thing Harry didn't get is that he hadn't cast a spell; he had just wanted something to happen. He had wanted it to happen so much that it just did.

"But, Professor, I didn't say an incantation, I didn't actually cast a spell. I just wanted to get through his barrier."

"Ah, and that is the last piece of the puzzle, isn't it, Harry? Tell me, how do you cast a spell?"

Harry said the first thing that came to mind, "Well, Professor Flitwick told us that the Word wills the magic to a purpose, and that the wand movements mould the spell to a certain effect." Even as Harry said this out loud, he knew it felt wrong.

"But, didn't you just say that you cast a spell with no wand, and without an incantation?" Dumbledore inquired, "Why should magic be limited to a specific sound that could have randomly been created in nature at any point?" His eyes had that twinkle in them, and that meant Harry was missing something.

"I don't know, I guess I just wanted it to happen…" Was that the answer, simply wanting it to happen? It sounded absurd, but then Harry was reminded of all the times something 'strange' had happened when he was young. They called it accidental, but was it really? Harry had _wanted _Dudley to be trapped in the Snake exhibit. He had wanted him to know what it felt like to always be trapped, to be ridiculed and taunted, just like him. So, how was that an accident?

Were those occasions any different than the Chamber?

"I think… I think magic just does what we want it to do." Even to Harry that sounded ridiculous.

Dumbledore gave him a look like he had just won the lottery. "Right you are, Harry."

So he was right! It wasn't accidental magic, it was just wandless! "Then why do we use wands at all? If we can do magic with just our thoughts, then what's the point of a wand?" It didn't make sense to limit magic to a device that wasn't essential.

"While wands are not required, they do provide a lot of advantages to the common wizard, Harry. Think back to the Chamber. How much did you have to _want _to break through that shield? How much focus did it take? At that moment, I imagine the entire world fell away, and there was only you and the magic. Tell me, Harry, do you think you could want a room to be cleaned _that much_? Most likely not."

Harry did remember, and Dumbledore was right. At that moment, he didn't want anything but for that shield to break. More than air, more than food.

"On top of that," Dumbledore continued, "When you cast wandless, you can use too much magic without a proper focus, because as the spell is being moulded you overflow the needed amount, like pouring too much water into a cup. This can be incredibly exhausting if the wizard is not disciplined."

"But, Professor, when I used the sword I didn't feel like I was wasting magic; all of it went into the sword, and then into the spell."

"That is because one of the other Runes in the sword, Harry. It acts like an incantation. If you had used simply any object as a focus, all the excess magic would have bled off, and would have been wasted. Instead, the sword circulates the magic back into you and enhances the final effect of the spell dramatically. If we were to use the cup example again, it would be like being able to hold more water in the cup than usual. That's why at first the magic was just traveling down your arm and into the sword, but as you used more magic, the feeling enveloped you."

So the sword _did _have power; it increased the effectiveness of wandless magic. How much more could Runes do? How much more could the sword do? Harry was more interested in magic right now than he had ever before.

Madam Pomfrey chose that moment to burst into the room. "Headmaster, if you are quite done, my patient should be resting right now!"

Dumbledore reluctantly stood up from his comfy arm chair. "Right you are, Poppy. Harry, if you have any more questions, feel free to see me in my office before the school year ends. The password is Lemon Tart. I bid you all good night." The chair Dumbledore had been sitting on silently vanished and he quietly left the room.

Harry had questions. He had _a lot _of questions, and he was going to answer them all someday.

XXX

**Author's Note:**

I've recently edited this chapter, improving it ever so slightly. Anyway, still fairly short, but it's just an introduction; the other chapters are longer.


	2. Explosive Experiments and How to Do Them

Quick Note: I suggest anyone who subscribed to this story re read the first chapter, as it has been a while.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, and I'm not profiting from this story.

Chapter Two:

Explosive Experiments and How to Do Them

XXX

It was ten at night and Harry Potter was finally settling down on his first day back from Hogwarts. The minute he stepped in the door his useless relatives had set him to work. "Do the dishes! Vacuum the floors! Tend the garden! Cook dinner!" The list goes on, and now they have, in all their infinite mercy, allowed him the gift of going to sleep without dinner. Oh joy!

So now he's sitting in his room, most assuredly not tired, with a book in his hand. After the events in the Chamber, Harry had asked Dumbledore about the Sword of Gryffindor, and how it worked. What he received was far more valuable.

"_Harry, why learn about one object when you can learn to make your own?" _

So, he gave Harry books. Most of them could have been found in the Library by anyone; "An Introduction to Basic Runes", "A Guide to Brewing Solutions", "Charming Objects for Dummies", stuff like that.

Picking up An Introduction to Basic Runes, he flipped to the first page and dove in.

_In this book, you will learn the basic concept behind carving Runes, and Rune functionality. The purpose of Runes are to store a spell in an object for later use and, in theory, any spell can be described in Runes. The more intricate or complex the spell, it generally will require more Runes to define._

_Chapter One, Carving_

_The act of carving is not in itself what gives Runes their power; just as a wand requires precise movements to mould a spell, a Rune is used for the same purpose. To power them, a magic source must be provided; this can be achieved several ways. _

_The first one you will be learning is the most basic; you simply will your magic into it, similar to casting a spell with your wand. This method has several draw backs, but will serve as a stepping stone to greater ones…_

XXX

It had been a few weeks since Harry got back, and his room was slowly filling up with odd Runed objects; paper airplanes that floated around the room, baseballs that released sparks upon impact, and unsharpened pencils that could be used as flashlights. The temptation of making magical objects was simply to good to not try out, and that's when Harry learned that Rune magic cant get you in trouble, because even with all his projects the ministry had not come storming through the house for underage magic use.

He was interrupted from his latest project as Hedwig, Errol, and a brown mystery owl flew through his window. "Hey, girl, what did you bring for me?" Taking the package from Hedwig, he noticed it a package from Hermione, and set it aside for now. "What about you, Errol?"

The packages from Errol and Hedwig turned out to be various gifts from his friends, with a newspaper clipping about Ron's dad winning some sort of contest and them using the money to take a trip to Egypt. Good for them, they could use a proper vacation.

After putting the gifts away, Harry took the letter from the brown owl, which appeared to be annoyed from waiting, and saw it was his Hogwarts letter.

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_Aside from the usual mandatory courses, students in their third year may choose up to three additional courses from the list below._

_**Ancient Runes:**__An introduction to the language and practical use of Runes._

_**Divination:**__ This class teaches you multiple techniques to determine the course of events._

_**Arithmancy:**__ The study of using advanced mathematics to determine outcomes, design spells, and modify existing ones._

_**Care of Magical Creatures:**__ Care of Magical creatures involves the feeding, handling, and controlling of different magical creatures, and will be taught by Professor Rubeus Hagrid this year._

_**Muggle Studies: **__This course examines the world of Muggles and how they cope without magic._

_Please return this sheet with the selected courses by August 25th__._

_**Sincerely, Minerva McGonagall**_

Looking at the list, Harry immediately checked off Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, and after seeing that Hagrid was teaching Care of Magical Creatures, checked that one off, too. Satisfied, Harry looked through the rest of the package and let out a groan; permission slip for trips to Hogsmeade? Vernon is probably going to say no just to spite him.

XXX

In retrospect, Harry's current predicament was entirely inevitable; you don't tell Harry Potter to be nice to Aunt Marge. It just doesn't happen.

All Vernon's threats to keep his 'freakishness' secret accomplished was cause a rather spectacular, and hilarious, feat of accidental magic. Marge was probably floating somewhere in the stratosphere by now, and Harry couldn't be happier.

Well, that's not true, as Marge's atmospheric escapade is the reason he's on the run. Although he hadn't bothered to check, he was pretty sure inflating your muggle aunt to epic proportions is frowned upon. So, after running upstairs and retrieving his trunk, books, and Hedwig, he made a beeline for the door and didn't look back.

Of course, an adrenaline rush only lasts so long, and it was right about when Harry began to regret his actions that he took a break on the side of the road. Ok, he was royally screwed, but he needed to do something. But, just as he was preparing himself to go back and face the Ministry and its punishment, Harry heard a rustling in the bushes ahead of him.

Steeling himself in case of an attack, he cautiously approached the sound. Probably just a cat or something…

'Or maybe it's a giant God damn rabid dog!' Harry back tracked quickly; in front of him was a large black dog with wild eyes. He tripped over the curb on the other side of the road, but before the animal could make a move, Harry's senses were assaulted with light and sound as a large, purple, triple-decker bus came to a screeching halt in front of him.

The doors swung open and a young man stepped out, "Welcome to the knight bus; emergency transport for the witch or wizard. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I'll be your conductor for this evening." He looked bemusedly at Harry lying on the grass. "What'cha doin down there for?…"

XXX

One hellish ride later, and twenty sickles poorer, Harry was standing outside the Leaky Cauldron. Stepping through the door he was immediately greeted by Tom, the owner. "Ah, Mr Potter, you've arrived. Minister Fudge would like a word with you."

Crap.

Harry was lead upstairs into one of the rooms. "Ah, Harry my boy, do come in." The Minister was a portly man with greying hair, and seemed to be relived and anxious at the same time. "As the Minister of Magic, I feel it is my duty to inform you that earlier this evening, your Aunt was located south of Hampshire by the Accidental Magic Reversal Department, where she was properly punctured and her memory altered. She will have no recollection of the incident whatsoever; so, that's that and no harm done."

Harry was floored; he wasn't in trouble, 'That's that'? Way too good to be true. "But, sir, I don't understand. Underage wizards aren't allowed to do magic at home; I broke the law."

Fudge broke out into a small grin. "Oh, Harry, we don't send people to Azkaban for a little accidental magic. It's quite common for young students to lose their temper occasionally, so why should you be punished for an accepted part of wizard society?" He took a few steps forward. "But, running away afterwards was _very _irresponsible, considering the current state of things."

"Sirius Black, you mean?" Fudge gave a small nod. "But, what's he got to do with me?" On Harry's Knight Bus ride, he had seen Stan reading an article in the Daily Prophet about Sirius Black. Big supporter of Voldemort, murdered a large group of Muggles, and supposedly went insane after the Dark Lord fell.

"Oh, nothing of course. It's just good to know you're safe." The minister began to gather his things from the nearby desk. "Given that you're already here, I think it would be a good idea if you spent your remaining time before the school year at the Leaky Cauldron."

Jack pot! Three weeks away from the Dursleys, then right off to Hogwarts? A full blown grin stretched across Harry's face. "I'd say that's a brilliant idea, Minister."

XXX

It had been a few days since Harry had arrived at Diagon Alley, and his initial enthusiasm was beginning to ebb; sure, there was plenty too see, but it didn't really help if you couldn't buy it.

Case and point: the new Firebolt model at the Quidditch store. It was supposedly the best broom on the market, superior in every way. Problem was, even with the money his parents left him it would leave a massive dent in the Galleons meant for his schooling. So, his rationality won out and he didn't buy it.

That didn't stop him from taking a _very _close look at it though; from the few Runes he could find inscribed into it, he could tell it was a complex piece of work. And that doesn't even include all the Charms, Enchantments and other spells that most likely went into its creation.

But, that got Harry thinking; what made one broom better than another? What specifically did they change in the Firebolt to make it 'superior in every way'? His interest peaked, he bought a magazine that had an article explaining the improvements made in it, and comparing it to several other models.

Harry had tried to dive right into it, as he usually does, but a few pages in it became painfully obvious that he didn't know enough about magical objects. Oh, sure, he recognized some terms, apparently one of the reasons why the Firebolt was so revolutionary was because the wood was prepared in a new magical Solution, and magic was able to flow with less resistance.

Problem was, Harry didn't even know how a broom was powered, let alone why 'the new Runic system has increased efficiency by twenty two percent, allowing higher top speeds and faster acceleration.'

Suffice to say, he was in over his head for now.

XXX

After Harry's initial failed foray into the realm of magical objects, he decided he needed more information if was ever going to get anywhere; so, back to Flourish and Blotts he went.

Stepping through the door, Harry was immediately greeted by the store manager. "Oh, Mr Potter, back again are we?"

"Yes, sir." He made his way to the front counter. "I was just wondering if you had any books on Broom making."

"Certainly, right this way." The manager set a brisk pace down one of the aisles. "Here we are. Now, what kind of book are you looking for; Theory, practical design, or current models?"

"Not sure, actually. I'm really just curious about magical objects in general, and I figured brooms were a good place to start… What would you recommend?"

The manager appeared to consider for a moment. "Hmm, well if you're more interested in magical objects then brooms, I have a book you may want to take a look at. Although, I do suggest you pick up Henry Smith's Modern Broom Designs regardless; it's a very informative book explaining the methods in which most brooms are made these days, and it could prove helpful in studies of this nature."

"Sounds good, sir. And the other book?" Harry was lead to another section.

"I know you're here somewhere…" The clerk was slowly scanning the titles, looking for the elusive book. "Ah ha, there you are!" Pulling out a fairly thick one, he presented it to Harry. "Alfred Shaun's Magical Objects: the Theory behind the Applications." He let out a small chuckle. "She's sure not a light read, but if you want to go anywhere in this field, this beauty can get you started."

Harry flipped through the book, giving it a small scan. He was right, though, it certainly wasn't a light read; it was seven hundred pages long and had several sections, but it looked dead useful. According to the Table of Contents, each of the sections went into excruciating detail on the theory behind each part in a magical object; essentially, this book was exactly what he was looking for.

"Seems perfect, I'll take it."

The clerk smiled, most likely happy about the good sale, and lead Harry back to the check out. "Ok, that's two galleons and fourteen sickles for Modern Broom Design, and three galleons seven sickles for Magical Objects, totalling… six galleons and four sickles."

Harry handed him the money. "Thank you, sir, you've been really helpful."

"Think nothing of it, my boy; I dare say it couldn't have gone to a better customer."

XXX

A few days after his trip to Flourish and Blotts, we find Harry holed up in his room at the Leaky Cauldron. After opening Magical Objects he simply couldn't put it down; his mind was swimming with ideas and concepts, there were so many possibilities that it astounded him.

The book itself was brilliant. Every section was on a different part of magical objects, whether it be the power source, the Runes, the Charms, or the Enchantments, and each section had seven chapters, each going more and more in depth into the subject. The idea was that you could read it two ways; by reading the first chapter of each section you could get a broad view of how magical objects worked, and working your way up in the chapters, or you could read an entire section and gain intimate knowledge of any one part.

Harry had chosen to read by chapters, instead of sections.

As it turns out, many magical objects actually worked similar to brooms. They had a magical core, which was the power source, and, using one of several systems, drained magic from the core to power it. The power of the object was usually defined by two factors: Strength and Efficiency. Apparently when using a magical object with a core, it could only draw so much magic at a time.

So, in the case of brooms, your maximum speed, acceleration, and turning capabilities were all limited by how strong its core is, and how efficiently the magic can travel through the broom.

A good example would be the Firebolt. Wood tended to be a poor conductor for magic, so a lot of magic is wasted when used as a base material. So, to counter act this, the wood was soaked in a special potion called a Solution to decrease the amount of magical resistance. The first reason the Firebolt was superior was because of the new Solution they used; it was able to decrease the magic resistance to an even greater extent.

On top of that, it had a new Runic System that was far more efficient. The magic not only was able to flow with less resistance, there was far less wood to travel through, further increasing the over all efficiency of the design. This meant more power, acceleration and a higher top speed.

All of this applied to any magical object that used a core, whether it was a broom, flying car, Sneakascope or proximity ward; they were all limited by Strength and Efficiency.

Of course, the book didn't outright tell him all of this. Harry had only gained this info through repeated references to his other books. Magical Objects was good, no doubt about that, but it wasn't the End All resource for information.

With a sigh, Harry put A Guide to Brewing Solutions down and rubbed his eyes; he should probably get his summer homework done, or he'll have Hermione on his case the minute he sees her.

XXX

As it turns out, Harry found his summer homework astoundingly easy. After all his reading in Brewing Solutions, he realised that Potions was a great deal less complicated than it seemed; he just needed to spend more time reading the properties of the ingredients, after that the theory behind them became a lot easier to grasp. It had also helped a great deal in Herbology, since many plants were used to brew potions.

His reading in Ancient Runes had also helped him in his Charms, DADA and Transfiguration work. Harry could safely say he knew more about magical theory than ever before, and it showed in his new understanding of the material.

In fact, the only courses he actually struggled with still were Astronomy and History, but that was more due to boredom than difficulty. With a flourish of writing, Harry finished his Astronomy essay and set it aside to dry. Hey, it may be boring, and he may not care about 'the magical relevancy of the lunar stages' but that didn't mean he wouldn't do it.

Tucking all of his school work back into his trunk, Harry decided to get a little fresh air; he still needed to pick up this year's course books, and it was the perfect excuse to go for a walk.

XXX

As far as Harry was concerned, Arithmancy was the single most frustrating class ever. After picking up his school books a week ago, which turned out to be a massive chore thanks to The Monster Book of Monsters, he figured he'd tried to read ahead in the subject like he had with Ancient Runes.

It turns out that Arithmancy is just a lot of math. Now, Harry was never bad at math, but going from working with fractions in Potions to algebra was a fairly large leap.

Throwing his text book away in disgust for what felt like the hundredth time, Harry began to pace back and forth in his room. He was making progress, but at a snails pace, and part of him was starting to think he'd made a bad choice in course selection.

So far as he could tell, numbers had significance in magic. Three was magically powerful, seven was lucky, and thirteen was unlucky, stuff like that. Sounds simple… until you try to factor that into an equation. These little variations could take a seemingly easy equation to determine the power and efficiency of your _Lumos_ spell into a rat's nest of variables.

Oh, and Merlin forbid you try to mathematically express the structure of a spell.

Sighing in frustration, Harry decided he needed a little outside help, and who knew more about sciences than Muggles? Throwing on a light jacket, he made his way down stairs.

Figuring Tom must know a bit about London, Harry figured that would be a good place to start. "Say, Tom, do you happen to know if there's a Muggle book store around here?"

He seemed surprised at the question. "Uh, le'me think a minute… Well, if it's still there, I reckon there's one 'bout ten or so blocks away; I'll write ye down the directions." Pulling out a quill and parchment, he scribbled some info down quickly and handed it to Harry.

Harry tucked the directions into his pocket. "Thanks, Tom, be back in a while for lunch."

Forty minutes later, Harry found himself in a fairly large book store. And while most of the sections were devoted to novels and their differing genres, it did have a respectable section for sciences. Finding the Algebra textbooks wasn't too difficult, but choosing which one to buy was. There were ones that focused on geometry, others that focused on chemistry or physics.

Deciding on a more general approach, Harry picked one that promised a broad introduction to the many applications of algebra. Paying the clerk quickly, he headed back to the Leaky Cauldron.

XXX

The book Harry bought had helped immensely. Where his course book gave him a formula, explained its uses, and gave him an example to solve, the Muggle book taught him the rules and basics behind algebra. Of course, that meant he himself had to connect the dots and figure out how it applied to magic.

To this end, Harry was using a small notebook to jot down his thoughts, and would try to construct the formula based on the parameters of the examples, then check with his Arithmancy book to see if he was right. Chances are he was doing far more work than needed, but Harry's thirst to understand wouldn't put up with half answers; plugging in numbers did not mean you understood.

He put down the Muggle pen he'd been writing with, since do math equations with a quill was likely the most painful thing he'd ever experienced, and leaned back and surveyed his room; quite frankly, it was a mess. There were books opened at various pages lying on his desk and bed, papers with notes scribbled all over them were strewn about the floor carelessly, and he had spilled at least two bottles of ink before switching to a pen. Considering he was leaving for Hogwarts in three days, he should probably tidy up-

"… I swear, Hermione, if you don't keep that bloody beast away from Scabbers I'll turn it into a coat!" That was definitely Ron yelling at Hermione.

"Honestly, what do you expect, Ron? He's a cat, it's in his nature." Oh yeah, definitely them. Rushing down from his room Harry was greeted with the sight of his two best friends bickering in typical fashion.

He made his way to the bottom of the stairs quietly, and then cleared his throat loud enough to get their attention. "I hope I'm not interrupting." Both of their heads swivelled around to him instantly, their faces lighting up when they realised who it was.

Hermione was the first to react. "Harry!" She ran over and gave him a bone crushing hug. "How has your summer been?"

"Brilliant! Come on, you two can tell me about your trips in my room." Harry led them up to his room, only to belatedly remember it was completely trashed.

"Blimey, Harry, did your trunk explode or something?" Ron was surveying his room with a look of horror.

Harry let out a chuckle. "Something along those lines, yeah."

"What is all this?" Hermione had picked up one of his scrap papers, which most likely had his Arithmancy calculations on it.

Taking the paper from her, he read it over to remember what it was, "A Summoning spell, more specifically _Accio_… or at least it was supposed to be, this was one of my screw ups."

Ron took one look at the paper and his eyes bugged out. "Mate, how is _this_ a Summoning spell?"

Hermione walked over to his desk and flipped through a few more of his notes. Picking up Harry's text book, she looked incredibly surprised. "Harry, did you take Arithmancy this year?"

Picking up some of his notes from the floor, Harry chuckled. "Yeah, although as you can see, it's not going too well."

Walking over to Hermione, Ron took one look at the book before shaking his head in disgust. "Have you gone barking mad? Why would you ever take _Arithmancy_! And on top of that, why are you studying a class that hasn't even started yet?"

Thinking about it, Harry didn't even really know. "I guess it just kind of interested me at first, but after about a week all it did was drive me crazy. Why, what did you take?"

"Care of Magical Creatures and Divination, what else? They're supposed to be the easy ones. What others did you take?"

"Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures."

If anything, Ron looked even more scandalized. "You _have _gone barking mad! Arithmancy was bad enough, but Ancient Runes? I swear if you go all Hermione on me I'm sending you to St Mungo's!"

Hermione looked up from Harry's Arithmancy book and let out a huff of indignation. "Oh please, Ronald, not everyone is interested in just getting by, _some _people actually want an education; I think Harry did the right thing." She took another quick look at Harry's notes, and then glanced back at his text book. "But Harry, how did you derive these formulas? I looked over my text book a bit after we got back from France, and I don't recognize the process all."

"Worked 'em out myself; the books formulas were confusing as hell when it came to magical number variables, so I got a book on Muggle algebra and worked from the ground up."

She scanned through a few more pages of his note book. "What about all this? I recognize some of the Ancient Runes, but what's this at the bottom? It looks like a potion formula, but I don't recognize some of the terms."

Harry grabbed the book from her and looked at the page. "Oh, just some notes on brooms. The stuff at the bottom is actually something called a Solution, and you need it to make the broom channel magic better. This is actually the Firebolt model, or at least what I could figure out about it; it's damn complicated. The Runes I've written down aren't even half of what's there."

At the sound of 'broom,' Ron was hovering over his shoulder instantly. "Not more of this stuff! And here I thought you'd been doing something half way interesting with your time." Ron took a seat at Harry's desk. "Well, while you've holed yourself up in this room for Merlin knows why, I had a great time down in Egypt."

"What was it like there?"

"Really cool; my brother Bill showed us around all the old Tombs. You wouldn't believe some of the traps they left to keep people stealing. There was this one room with a bunch of old muggle bones with two heads and stuff, Bill said it took them three weeks before they could even go in there!"

"Did he say how the room was cursed?"

"I think he said something about spelled stones in the room, and every time you got close to one it would hit you something nasty."

Harry and Ron talked for a while, the topics ranging from Quidditch to Hermione's new evil cat; the entire time which she had her head in Harry's notes. Every once in a while she would let out a soft 'what?' and check a bunch of his text books, usually followed by a small 'oh.'

A while later, Hermione suddenly blurted out, "Harry, do you think I could borrow your notes for a little? I promise I'll bring them back tonight."

Ron looked completely dumb struck, and Harry couldn't blame him; since when did _Hermione _ask for _his _notes?

"Uh… sure, Hermione."

"Great! Thank you, Harry. I'll see you guys at dinner, I need to check some stuff…" With that she picked up Harry's notebook and walked out the door. They were too surprised to even wave bye.

Ron broke out of his stupor first. "Harry, I think you broke Hermione."

"I think you may be right."

XXX

Hermione came down from her room just as dinner started, looking quite frazzled, and Harry was a little pleased that Arithmancy was giving her trouble too, and it wasn't that he was just really terrible at it.

During the meal Harry was greeted by the rest of the Weasleys, barring Bill and Charlie. The twins had been cooking up some extra devilish pranks and were trying to 'test' them on everyone. Percy had made head boy and was looking rather pleased with himself, polishing his badge every so often.

Even Ginny was looking a lot better than she had at the end of the year, and had spent a good ten minutes repeatedly thanking Harry for saving her. Taking it in stride, he brushed it off good heartedly, making it seem like neither of them were ever truly in danger; she hardly remembered anything, and there was no reason to worry her more than necessary.

"So, Harry," Percy said during a lull in conversation. "What courses are you taking this year? It appears my lazy brother here is taking the easy ones, I hope you haven't done the same."

Conversation began to degrade into school matters, things to expect this year, classes, and Quidditch. Soon after Mr and Mrs Weasley began to send everybody to bed, saying they had to pick up all their school supplies tomorrow, and needed and early start. It was as he was waving Ron goodnight he realised he'd left his notebook downstairs where they'd been eating; Hermione had given it back only after he promised to let her see it again.

Treading quietly, so as to not disturb anyone who was already sleeping, he made his way down. Spying his notebook on the table they'd sat at, he was about to grab it when he heard two people arguing.

"… telling you, Molly, he deserves to know!" That had definitely been Mr Weasley, and it was probably the second time he'd ever heard the man angry.

"Why, so he can be terrified his whole school year? He's just a child!"

"Better Harry be scared and alive than ignorantly happy and dead! You know how him and Ron are; they're always sneaking off to where they shouldn't. They've already been in the Forbidden forest twice, what's to say next time it happens Black won't be waiting there for him?"

There was a long silence. What did Black want with Harry?

"Arthur, Hogwarts is the safest place Harry could be, Dumbledore will be there to protect him; and besides that, the Azkaban Guards will make sure no one can get in. Plus, we don't even know for sure if he's after Harry."

"Like they were supposed to keep him _in _Azkaban? They didn't work before, so why would it now? Listen. Molly, people say Black is insane, but he still made it out of Azkaban, and in the weeks before he escaped Fudge said Black kept saying, 'He's at Hogwarts' over and over. Black probably thinks the only thing stopping Voldemort from coming back is Harry, and Ginny being with us today is kind of proof that he's right."

Thinking he'd heard enough, and that he better not push his luck, Harry grabbed his notebook and crept upstairs. Once inside his room, he tried to process what he'd just heard; Black was after him, and chances are he could get into Hogwarts. And as much as he wanted to believe Dumbledore would protect him, he couldn't be there all the time. Harry had learned that a long time ago.

His respect for Arthur had gone up a notch tonight; he was right in wanting to warn Harry. Sure, Mrs Weasley's intentions were good, but good intentions can still get someone killed.

This actually explained a lot of things. It was why Fudge didn't expel Harry, and wanted him to stay at the Leaky Cauldron where Tom could keep an eye on him, and why he was so relieved to find him so soon after leaving his uncle's.

It also meant that he had about a zero chance of going to Hogsmeade.

Harry wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that. On the one hand, he'd be missing out big time, but on the other hand, he didn't want to die. Of course, if he was one of the only students in the school, and Black could get _in _the school, wouldn't it make him an easier target?

And if he could get in the school, was Hogsmeade any less safe? Either way he couldn't rely on Dumbledore; he can't be with Harry at all times. The only person he could rely on to escape was himself.

"Whatever happens, I am _not _going to be murdered."

XXX

Harry threw his trunk into the Ministry car with a huff of annoyance; he would always cherish the Weasley family, but just once he'd like _everyone_ to be packed on the day they leave for Hogwarts. Hectic didn't even begin to cover his morning.

It took another fifteen minutes for everyone to get out the door, and Harry wasn't sure they'd make it. Oh well, nothing he could do about it, so he simply looked out the window and tried to let his annoyance bleed away.

When they arrived the platform was more packed than he ever remembered.

"Alright, everyone," Arthur said. "Things seem pretty busy so we should cross over in pairs. Harry and I will go first." They both took a running start towards the barrier and Harry was once again reminded of running through pudding.

Arthur grabbed him by the shoulder to get his attention. "Harry, if I could talk to you for a moment?"

They stepped to the side just as Ginny and Fred came through. "Harry, many would disagree with me telling you this, but you may be in grave danger."

So Mr Weasley was trying to warn him, despite the fact that it caused a row with his wife? His respect for the man rose even higher. "It's ok, sir, I already know. I accidentally heard you talking to Mrs Weasley last night, but I want you to know it means a lot that you trusted me to take this seriously."

"It's no problem, Harry; you had a right to know. But, there's one more thing," He quickly checked to see Molly was still preoccupied with the children. "I need you to promise me that, no matter what, you won't go looking for Black."

"Why would I go after someone who's trying to kill me?"

"Just promise me you won't!" There was a large belch of steam as the train prepared to leave. "Now quickly, get on before you're left behind." Harry was ushered to the door, and the train started to move just as he got on.

There was something going on, Harry could feel it; if he was expected to go after Black then there had to be a reason for it. He seriously doubted Arthur thought he would go after him as sort of pre-emptive attack, not even Harry was that crazy. So, the question was what reason would he have to go after Black?

His thoughts were interrupted as Ron and Hermione finally found a somewhat empty compartment, only having one adult occupant. This, now that he thought about it, is pretty weird in itself, since the only adult he'd ever seen on the train was the Trolley lady. Wasn't this train reserved for students?

Ron gave the mystery man a quick look. "Who do you think he is?"

"Professor R.J. Lupin, it says so on his trunk," Hermione answered in a matter of fact tone.

As they settled in, Harry briefly considered telling his friends what Arthur had told him, to see what they thought, but scrapped that idea quickly. When you have faced down Dark Lords and Basilisks, a mass murderer doesn't seem that bad, but it would probably worry Ron and Hermione. No, he'd take a page from Mrs Weasley and let them stay happy in ignorance.

"Do you hear something ringing?" Hermione was looking around the compartment for the sound. "Harry, I think it's coming from your trunk."

Digging around quickly, Harry found the Sneakascope Ron had given him for his birthday. "Just a present Ron got me, supposed to tell you when there's someone untrustworthy around."

Ron let out a snort. "Yeah, if the damn thing worked properly; they must have sold me a bad one, 'cause it wouldn't stop ringing the entire time I had it."

"Well, you were around Fred and George," Hermione interjected. "So that really shouldn't surprise you."

"I guess so, but still, the bloody thing could be a little more specific. We could take it in when we go to Hogsmeade, get it checked out; they sell that kind of stuff at Dervish and Bangs. According to Fred and George, it's full of all kinds of magical knick knacks."

Great, there's a store full of magical devices and Harry couldn't go.

"But that's not why I want to go, they've got this place called Honeydukes, and they've got _every_ sweet imaginable!" Ron went on to explain all the different kinds of treats they sold, in agonizing detail.

Lets add Honeydukes to the list of things Harry won't get to see.

"I guess you guys will have to tell me all about it, considering I can't go."

"What? Why the bloody hell not?"

Harry explained how Vernon didn't sign his permission slip, and Ron suggested he get McGonagall. Right, the strictest Professor in the school is going to sign his permission slip.

"Well, you could try sneaking out of the school; Fred and George know plenty of secret passages you could use."

That idea apparently left a sour taste in Hermione's mouth. "Harry really shouldn't be sneaking out, Ron; he could get in huge trouble for that sort of thing."If only she knew how much trouble he _really_ could get in, with the whole Black situation.

Harry let the matter drop and watched the landscape roll by; he'd talk to Fred and George later and see what they could do.

Most of the trip was spent in silence, so as to not wake up the sleeping Professor. He pulled out his notebook to pass the time, and only barely suppressed a laugh when he saw Hermione send it a withering glare. She was a smart girl, probably the smartest in his year, but he had spent two weeks of intense study making these notes, and even after two days of studying them she hadn't figured it all out.

Their peaceful silence was interrupted when Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, decided to make his unwelcome appearance. As he was really not in the mood for Malfoy's usual posturing, Harry tried to stop the problem before it even started.

"Look, Malfoy, before you try to start threatening and insulting us, allow me to introduce you to Professor Lupin, the new Defence Professor."

Malfoy let loose one of his trademark sneers. "Is little Potty hiding behind the teachers?"

"Really, that's the route you wanna take?" Harry gave him an incredulous look. "How many times has Snape had to save your ass when you do something stupid? How many times have you needed his protection when you get caught? Piss off, and take your glorified prime apes with you."

Malfoy was understandably livid, and Harry watched as he reached for his wand, only to realise that cursing another student in front of a Professor isn't the smartest idea. "Mark my words, Potter, you'll pay for your disrespect."

He left the room in what may have been an attempt at the dramatic, but it was kind of spoiled when Crabbe and Goyle stood there stupidly for a moment, not realising that there wasn't going to be a fight. How did those two make it into a House that values cleverness when they probably share one mentally deficient brain cell between the two of them?

"That was bloody brilliant, Harry."

"It's probably not a good idea to antagonise him." Hermione: the Voice of Reason. "Even if he's a prat, it won't be worth it if he has even more cause to make your life miserable."

"Like hell he shouldn't!" Ron exploded, "I swear, I'm not taking any of his crap this year; one more crack about my family and I'm gonna knock that smirk off his face. 'Shouldn't antagonize him,' my ass!"

Ron's tirade was cut short when the train began to slow.

"We shouldn't be at Hogwarts yet," Hermione said checking her watch. "I wonder why we're stopping."

Harry wondered too; so far as he knew, the Hogwarts Express made only one stop, being Hogwarts, as the name would imply. Poking his head out the door, Harry saw other curious students wondering what was going on.

A moment later the train came to a complete stop, and distant thuds told them luggage had fallen out of the racks. Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and they were plunged into total darkness. Harry ignored the startled cries of students and felt his way to his trunk.

'I know I left it here somewhere…' He thought while rummaging around. Feeling his hand close around a small ball, he pulled it out triumphantly. Channelling his magic, the room was suddenly filled with a bright, almost painful white light.

Ron looked at him curiously. "Blimey, Harry, what'cha got there?"

In his hand was one of Harry's early Rune projects; it was just a simple golf ball scribed to cast a Lumos when someone channelled magic into it. It was a fairly simple design, only consisting of a few Runes, but Harry wasn't going to risk casting a spell with his wand after inflating Aunt Marge; he was already skating on thin ice.

"Just something I made during the summer. Wait here while I go check on what's happening."

As he opened the door, Harry nearly walked into Neville, who had been trying to figure out what's going on. "Hullo, Neville."

"Oh good, you've got some light. Don't s'pose you got any idea what's goin' on?"

"Not at all, but I was just about to go ask the driver though, wanna come with?" Neville nodded in agreement, and they made it down the hall where they ran into a frantic Ginny.

"Harry, have you seen my brother? People are saying they saw someone get on the train."

Quickly leading her to their compartment, Harry pulled out his wand just in case. Call him paranoid, but it seemed like a good idea when there was a mass murderer after him. "Stay with Ron until -"

The words died on his lips as he felt a wave of dread wash over him. It was followed by a chill that reached his bones, and Harry slowly turned to the source. Coming down the corridor was a cloaked figure, and he absently noted that though it had been packed moment ago, it was now completely devoid of anyone but him and Neville.

He could hear Hermione calling to him, asking what was happening, but her voice sounded so distant it barely registered in his mind. He was spiralling slowly into darkness, despair gripping him like a cold iron vice. Then, quiet at first, but growing louder every second, he heard a woman scream. There were no words, just emotions; fear, pain, desperation. Harry heard them all.

As the voice grew, and the darkness closed in, Harry realised the cloaked person was a scarce ten meters away. Every instinct told him to run, escape, flee the train and never come back, but he looked over at Neville and saw his own fear mirrored on his horror stricken face.

Making a barely registered decision, Harry pushed Neville into the still open compartment and slammed it shut.

Harry's panic stricken mind was at a loss of what to do. He was sinking faster now, drifting towards the woman's cries. Just as he was going to slip into the all encompassing despair, Harry looked down at his flickering Lumos ball.

The darkness was closing in now, consuming him, and his mind was raging over ways to overcome it. He looked again at the light in his hand, focusing on making it push back the darkness, feeding it with as much power as he could muster. He could feel the warmth spread through his chest, and seep into his arm, then the once almost painful light of the Lumos became a searing heat that singed the walls around him, and yet Harry felt no pain.

Cocking his arm back, Harry let his once harmless ball fly through the air, and he didn't know who was more surprised when it blew up; him or the creature.

Harry was knocked over by the force, and although the light was completely blinding, he heard a scream of rage that was so inhuman he knew it would haunt him for many nights to come. The dark figure, which had before been approaching slowly, now came at him with blinding speed.

But before Merlin knows what could happen, the now conscious Professor R.J. Lupin burst through the compartment door. "Expecto _Patronum_!"

He watched as a soft white light exploded from the man's wand, forcing the creature back down the corridor. Faces began to swirl around him, they were talking and yet Harry heard nothing; the screaming woman was drawing him in, and he couldn't fight the despair anymore. Then, just when he thought he could take no more, he slipped into merciful unconsciousness.

XXX

**Author's Note:**

Good news, I edited this chapter also for improvement. Anyone who read this before will notice much better dialogue grammar.

I am in the process of updating my profile, and it will have more in depth information about this story. If you're curious about something, check there for the answer. Otherwise, leave it in your review and I'll try to get back to you.

As in the first chapter, if anything sticks out to you, whether it is unbearably bad, or heart stoppingly good, point it out to me in your review. This really helps my writing, and you'll be doing me a favour.


	3. Unexpected Aquaintances

Chapter Three:

Unexpected Acquaintances

Harry's eyes slowly opened, and a myriad of colors swam in his vision before forming into the shapes of his friends. Slowly propping himself onto his elbows, he looked at their concerned faces, and realised he felt sick to his stomach. "Anyone get the number of the train that hit me?"

"Here, Harry," Professor Lupin handed him a brick of brown substance. Expecting it to be some sort of terrible wizarding remedy, he was surprised to learn it was just chocolate after taking a bite. "That should help get your strength up."

Finishing the last bit, Harry picked himself up from the floor, absently noting the train was once again moving. "How long was I out?"

"Oh, not long, about five minuets." He chuckled while making a broad, sweeping gesture at the assembled group. "Gave your friends a scare, though."

To drive his point home, Hermione gave him one of her bone crushing hugs. "Harry, what were you thinking! What part of you thought it would be a good idea to attack that thing, when there was a _Defence _Professor in the room?"

'Hey, you try making a rational decision when you're terrified out of your wits; it's not the easiest thing to do!' he thought petulantly.

"I don't know, seemed like a good idea at the time." Harry slowly sat down into one of the chairs, "Anyway, what _was_ that thing?"

"A Dementor," Lupin answered with a grimace, "One of the Azkaban Guards. Right nasty creatures, they are, they feed off of positive emotions, forcing people to relive their worst memories. Apparently it was searching the train for Sirius Black, until you attacked it, that is." He gave Harry a long, measured stare, "What _did_ you attack it with, Harry?"

Shaking the rest of the cobwebs from his head, Harry tried to remember what happened. "Well, from what I can tell, when I panicked I tried to overcharge my Lumos ball -"

"Lumos ball?" Lupin asked in curiosity.

"Oh, it's just an Ancient Runes project of mine, scribed to light up when you channel magic into it." Harry ran a hand through his unruly black hair, "Anyway, I think I panicked because everything was going dark, and overcharged the Runes, destabilizing the spell. So, when I threw it at the Dementor, it kind of just fractured, and the excess magic exploded from it. Although all it really did was piss the thing off."

Or, at least, that's the best Harry could figure with his budding Arithmancy knowledge. Spells had a natural limit to how much power you could channel into them, and the only way to increase this was to modify the Spell Net during the casting, so it wouldn't fracture from the strength. Otherwise, well, you get results like this.

Lupin considered his answer before responding, "Yes, that would be the case, as there is only one spell known to affect Dementors, and you saw me cast it."

Harry remembered the soft silver light pushing back the creature. "Expecto Patronum?"

Nodding in response, he slowly stood up out of his seat. "That's the one. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to speak with the driver."

As soon as the door closed again Neville let out a long, shaky sigh. "Did anyone else feel how cold it got?"

Ron shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I felt really strange… I thought I'd never be cheerful again, and Ginny was shaking like mad, like she was freezing."

Harry looked over at Ginny; she had her knees drawn up to her chest, and was staring absently at the floor. If that thing made you experience your worst memories, then what had caused her to react so badly? He had a feeling she remembered more from her time with Riddle than she let on. But, it wasn't Harry's place to confront her about it. Maybe he'd tell Ron, get him to talk to her and find out what's going on.

Lupin came back and told them they'd be arriving in ten minutes, and the rest of the trip was spent in silence, no one wanting to talk about what happened anymore.

As soon as the train pulled into Hogsmeade station, it was like a herd of race horses dashing out of the corrals. Animals cried out in displeasure as luggage slammed into each other; students fled the train like it was set to explode. Quite frankly, Harry couldn't blame them.

They heard Hagrid calling for the now terrified first years, but couldn't wave him hello through the massive crowd. They followed the rest of the students down the rough mud track, and slowly a wave of whispering spread through the group. Then, subtly at first, people began to point in his direction as he walked by, whispering with the person beside them.

Great, somehow the events on the train had spread to the school. Striding purposefully through a group of second year Hufflepuffs who had been staring too openly, he made his way to the stagecoaches with a scowl on his face, Ron and Hermione following behind him.

Ignoring the lingering smell of old straw and mould, Harry closed the blinds of the coach and sat in silence. He really didn't want to deal with everyone's blatant stares this year; was a little tact so difficult?

Hermione and Ron seemed concerned, but he brushed it off when they asked, "I'm fine, I just don't want to deal with people right now."

Maybe it was childish, but it was true. After being the schools pariah last year, when they thought he was Slytherins heir, he was in no way excited to have the schools attention back on him. The best he could do was ignore them, and wait for their interest to stray. So, when they arrived at the school, Harry set his eyes straight forward and did just that.

He had barely made it two steps into the Great Hall when McGonagall called to him, "Mr Potter, may I speak to you for a moment?" Sifting through the throng of students, he slowly made his way over to the strict Professor. Her greying brown hair was up in its usual tight bun, mirroring her personality. "Mr Lupin said you weren't feeling well; I think you should report to the Hospital Wing."

Harry was instantly opposed to the idea; he didn't want to give them the satisfaction of not showing up at the feast, like he was too weak. "It's alright, Professor, the chocolate he gave me earlier helped a lot, and I think a nice apple turnover is what the Healer ordered." He didn't really have any intention of eating much, he still felt rotten, but, whatever works.

She seemed to look him over, checking if he really looked ok. "Very well, but if you start to feel any worse, don't hesitate to get checked up." He once again joined the shuffling query of bodies, looking back just in time to see McGonagall call out to Hermione. Strange.

Taking a seat roughly in the center of the Gryffindor table, he once again began his game of 'Ignore the Masses.' The tables quickly filled up, Ron plopping next to him with a grunt.

A short while later, the doors opened again to reveal the new batch of students, all gazing in wonder at the Halls ceiling, which is a sight to see. Then came the sorting, which took a fair twenty five minutes before all the children had been sorted.

Afterwards, Dumbledore rose at the Head Table, instantly gaining the attention of everyone assembled. "Welcome back, everyone, to another year at Hogwarts. Before we can dine on another of our delicious feasts, I have a few things to say to you, some of which are very serious."

He cleared his throat before continuing, "Now, as many of you may be aware from their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is currently playing host to the Dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry business." Harry could detect a hint of displeasure from Dumbledore. So, he disapproved of the Dementors? Good.

"They are stationed at every entrance," he continued, "And I must make it plain that students are not to leave the school without permission. A Dementor will not be fooled by tricks or disguises, or even Invisibility Cloaks," he added blandly, and Harry and Ron glanced at each other. "It is not in the nature of a Dementor to be forgiving, and I recommend you do not do anything to make them wish you harm." This time he openly looked at Harry.

'Real subtle, Dumbledore.' Harry resisted the urge to sink into his seat.

He went on to introduce Professor Lupin as the new Defence teacher, and Hagrid as the new Care of Magical Creatures teacher. Harry saw Snape give Lupin a look that surprised him; it was common knowledge that he wanted the Defence position, but the look was filled with more than jealousy or anger, it was loathing. Harry would know, because it was a look usually reserved for him.

With nothing else to tell the students, Dumbledore simply said 'tuck in,' and the previously empty platters and plates filled with delicious meals of every kind.

At first, Harry picked at a delicious steak, barely even acknowledging it had taste. But, after a few minutes, he realised he was starving. He tore into his steak with gusto, downed two helpings of baked potatoes, drained two goblets of pumpkin juice, and polished off a plate of sausages. Well, he bounced back quickly enough.

After quickly congratulating Hagrid, they followed the rest of the Gryffindors up to their common room. Quickly getting ready for bed, Harry realised that even if he was annoyed with the majority of the student body, or even though something insane and dangerous seemed to plague him each year, he felt truly at home within the walls of Hogwarts; it was where he belonged.

Sighing with contentment, he decided that he just had to take the good with the bad, even if the bad contained a mass murderer out for his blood.

XXX

When Harry entered the Hall for breakfast, having gone ahead instead of waiting for Ron, his path was immediately blocked by Malfoy and a group of Slytherins. No no, not before his tea would he deal with this; he brushed by them without a second thought.

"Hey, Potter," Malfoy jeered from behind him. "I heard you fainted yesterday; what, can't stand up to a little Dementor?"

Harry nearly laughed at the absurdity of it. Malfoy actually expected a _third_ year to stand up to a Dementor? Yeah, right, lets lock him up in a room with one and see how that turns out. Jack ass. Without even pausing, Harry continued towards the Gryffindor table, taking a seat next to Fred and George.

"Good morning, Oh Stone Faced One," Fred greeted, "And what, pray tell, has stolen your sunshine this grand day?"

Harry pointed behind him. "Just Malfoy sticking his metaphorical foot in his mouth, as usual."

Both twins glanced back in time to see Malfoy doing an exaggerated swoon, feigning passing out.

"That little git," George spat. "He wasn't exactly the picture of bravery last night. Came running into our compartment, snivelling like a child, didn't he, Fred?"

"Too right he did, George." Fred gave a conspiratorial glance around, and then said in a low whisper, "Want us to make his life miserable? We've got quite a few products we wouldn't mind 'testing' and he looks like a willing subject. Don't you think, oh brother of mine?"

"Indeed, brother."

Harry considered it briefly, but ultimately wanted to get back at Malfoy himself, and really hit him where it hurts. But, it would probably be good to have the legendary prank twins on stand by, just in case. "Ask me again in a few weeks, and I'll see how I'm feeling then."

Breakfast continued in relative normalcy, Ron and Hermione joining them soon after, and was only interrupted when McGonagall came to hand them their timetables. Checking his, Harry saw he had Arithmancy first thing, and for the first time in a long time, he was looking forward to class.

"Brilliant, I've got Arithmancy now."

Ron gave him a horrified look. "Mate, that sentence should only ever be uttered with bitter sarcasm, not excitement. I swear you've gone screwy." He looked at his own timetable. "I've got Divination first thing, which means I basically get to go back to sleep. Don't bother saying it, I know you're jealous."

Harry just chuckled to his friend, and was about to ask Hermione what she had when he belatedly realised she'd walked off and was now talking to Ginny at the other end of the table. She was probably offering to tutor her, since she apparently forgot a lot of schooling last year due to the whole Riddle thing. Oh well, he'd ask Hermione later.

Checking his watch, he realised that class was due to start soon, so he polished off his toast and waved Ron goodbye. Grabbing his bag, he set off to find his new classroom, which was apparently on the fourth floor. About five minutes later, Harry found himself in front of a large oak door.

"Room 407, Arithmancy." Figuring this was the right place, he stepped inside, and after taking a cursory glance around the room, he realised that this was a Gryffindor/Slytherin class.

'Well, that sucks,' Harry thought blandly. He honestly had to question the sanity of whatever teacher kept putting the two houses together in classes; it was just a bad idea. He recognized a few faces, Dean and Seamus were here, and a few other third year Gryffindors he wasn't familiar with. Sadly, he also noted that Malfoy was here, with Pansy Parkinson by his side.

To make matters worse, it seemed that this class had more Slytherins, even if he didn't recognize most of them by name. And finally, to top it off, he also saw that there were only two seats left, both by Slytherins. He thought he recognized the boy, Nitt or Nott, something like that, but couldn't recall the name of the girl. She had black hair reaching to the middle of her back, and was slightly tanned; admittedly, she was cute in a sort of 'Winter Beauty' way. With a sigh, he figured he may as well sit next to something pretty.

He placed his book bag on the shared desk. "This seat taken?" The mystery girl shook her head no, so he sat down and pulled out his things. If she was wondering why a Gryffindor was sitting next to her, she didn't show any signs of it. So, figuring that she was at least civil, he gave her a nod of greeting, which she returned.

Soon afterwards, the teacher came strolling in. She was surprisingly young, most likely mid thirties, though it was hard to tell with witches, and had shoulder length blond hair tied in a loose ponytail. Harry guessed that she could have been attractive in her younger years, but, age weathers all objects. With a flourish of wand movements, a black board shot out from one of the corners of the classroom, and a piece of chalk began to write out 'Professor Vector.'

With hands clasped behind her back, she greeted them, "Good morning, class, and welcome to third year Arithmancy." Her voice was business like, but not unkind. "I'll warn you now that this class is not for the faint hearted, and you will be required to apply yourselves in all aspects, or you will fall behind very easily. Now, while there are many practical uses for Arithmancy, I'll go over the ones we will focus on in the third year."

Harry pulled out his Muggle pen and notebook, since he hadn't been able to go back to quills after the summer, and began to take notes. He saw that his partner was doing the same.

"The first application we'll be studying is the analysis of existing spells; we'll be studying how wand movements shape the structure of a spell, which is called the Spell Net, and how to determine the effect of a spell based on this.."

She went on to explain basically what the course selection sheet had, but in greater detail. After learning how to analyze spells, they'd learn how to modify them, which involved an understanding of how spells operated. Then they'd move on to learning how to mathematically determine the likely outcomes of events; apparently this was required in later years of Arithmancy, for more complicated spells.

"Now, our lesson today will be focusing on wand gestures, known as Bindings in Arithmancy, and how they shape the spells we cast, which we will express mathematically." She showed them bunch of basic wand Bindings, all of which the chalk copied onto the board, and explained how each would mould a spell in different ways.

It was simple enough at first, but then when it came to actually piecing the Bindings together with math, he saw a lot of faces go blank with confusion. A Spell Net is tricky, and when you try to define it, it's almost like trying to express its shape with geometry, even if it looks nothing like that. Harry had already known all of this, but it was good to keep it fresh in your memory.

But, that isn't to say he didn't learn anything, she'd actually answered a question that had been bothering him for a while. You see, while Harry knew three was magically powerful, he didn't know why. But, as it turns out, the reason is because triangles were the strongest shape in geometry. This didn't even just apply to magic; it was true in physics, also.

Of course, she didn't outright _say_ this, she had only mentioned that triangle based Spell Nets were the strongest, and he had connected the dots.

With a few logical leaps in reasoning, he applied this to the other Magical Numbers he knew. Apparently seven was very stable, and was a common base for spell design, hence why it was called 'lucky.' Thirteen, on the other hand, was _un_stable and not used very often, branding it 'unlucky.' This information had opened his eyes, and explained a few trends in his Arithmancy notes he had noticed, but didn't understand.

Scanning the room, he saw quite a few people were struggling with the formulas for Spell Nets. Somehow he wasn't surprised, since math wasn't exactly on the Hogwarts curriculum, so it came as no shock when she went around personally helping anyone who needed it.

After a while she returned to the front of the class. "Ok, now that everyone is up to speed, I have a few examples I want you to solve." She flipped over the blackboard, revealing twenty small questions already written out. "Now, I expect everyone to complete the questions by the end of class, and want them handed in before you leave."

Harry ignored the few groans of displeasure throughout the class and set himself to work. The questions weren't hard, since he had studied over the summer, but there was quite a few people clearly not doing well. One of which was his seating partner, who was chewing the end of her quill in frustration. He briefly considered helping her, but realised that would probably go over really badly.

So, instead he finished the work, which had all been fairly easy; his summer studying had really paid off. For Harry, the only complicated part was solving how each Binding could change another, when used in sequence; even though there weren't many , each combination could produce vastly different results, so there were a lot of possible answers. As such, the formula was fairly complicated.

When he finished, he began to copy the answers from his notebook onto roll of parchment with a quill, since he was pretty sure it was required that all work be completed that way. But, he was interrupted by a soft tap from behind. "Harry, could you help me with question seventeen?"

Swivelling around, he saw it was Hermione sitting with Nott; when did she get here?

Figuring it had probably been difficult for her to ask him for help, Harry tried to hide his surprise that she even needed any. "Yeah, no problem, what do you need help with?"

Her question had been fairly complicated, because she preferred to combine the several smaller formulas into one long one, and then punch in the provided numbers. Where as Harry completed his work in stages, finishing one equation and using the answer to solve another.

Both methods had their own drawbacks, but Hermione's was showing its own now; she had misplaced a set of brackets, so her exponents were incorrect, vastly changing her answer. He pointed it out and she immediately picked up on it. "Oh, now I get it! Thanks a lot, Harry."

Simply giving her a nod in return, he returned to his seat.

While he'd been gone, it seemed his partner hadn't been doing any better than before he'd left, and she was only on question eight. Without meaning to, he spied a few mistakes in the questions she'd already answered. Slytherin or not, he winced with sympathy; she was playing with a lock of hair, which he assumed was a sign of frustration, and her brow was nit together in concentration.

She crossed out the question she was working on, which had been wrong, and apparently that was all she could take; with one last sigh of annoyance, she turned to him. "Look, Potter, I'm just going to assume you're pretty good at this stuff, if Granger asking you for help is any indication." Harry could swear he visibly saw her swallow her pride. "And, well, do you think you could help me?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess," he stuttered out lamely. In his defence, this wasn't exactly an every day occurrence, so it should be understandable that he was caught off guard.

He pulled his seat over a little, to see her work better, and looked it over. This girl was apparently pretty bad at math, or at least hadn't had practice in quite some time; there were many simple mistakes, like incorrect lowest common denominators, and she wasn't following BEDMAS properly. So, as careful as a man defusing a bomb, he pointed out her mistakes.

"Well, you kind of messed up your factoring a little on question five; when determining the effective distance of a spell you need to divide the magical energy plus the spell velocity by the directional surface area squared, not doubled. So it's Me+Sv/Sa2, not Me+Sv/2Sa."

They went over the rest of the questions, and Harry learned quickly to pay attention to her facial expressions in case she didn't get what he was talking about, because she never asked him to repeat anything. He could tell she was trying hard, she just wasn't getting it, and this was probably why it was considered one of the hardest courses; some people just had trouble with it.

She would frequently run a hand through her hair when frustrated, and her quill was close to being chewed to pieces, but she had never been unfriendly or spiteful, even if not very inviting, so he felt good about helping her. With a scant ten minutes of class left, they finally finished the last question, and she had at least a shaky understanding of them, but would probably need to review a lot later tonight.

"Well, thanks for your help," she said while looking away, pretending she was organizing her book bag. "As you probably guessed, math isn't really my strong suit."

Harry was mostly just stunned a Slytherin had asked for his help. "It's no problem, umm… I never caught your name?"

She gave him a little subdued smile. "Daphne."

"Well, Daphne," Harry made a gesture towards Malfoy, "Aren't you going to catch hell for 'flirting with the enemy,' so to speak."

Glancing at who he was pointing at, she let out a sharp laugh. "Oh, please, not _every_ Slytherin wants to go butting heads with Gryffs; a couple of us have a brain, you know."

"So," he said mildly, "You're saying is you're not part of Malfoy's clique?"

Her expression soured quickly. "If you asked me 'Do you think he's an ok bloke?' I'd say no." She paused, choosing her words carefully, and was playing with a lock of hair again. "But, that doesn't mean I don't run in his circle."

"So, if you know he's a git, then why is it that he has so many people following him?"

She laughed again, this time bitter. "Because it's _all_ his circle, so far as Slytherin is concerned." Daphne continued to play with her hair, which he realized was a sign of nervousness, not frustration. "What it really comes down to is that the Malfoy's are powerful, and most of our parents don't want to be on the wrong side of it. So, we get to play kiss ass."

In a way, this made sense to Harry, in an abstract sort of fashion, but mostly it just disgusted him. All of Slytherin just bent over backwards because of a little money? It just proved they were spineless. But, it made him realise how to _really_ get to Malfoy, and it was ingeniously simple; Harry would make it his goal to take away any influence he had at the school, and strip him of all power.

Now it was just a question of how to do it.

XXX

Class was dismissed shortly after his enlightening talk with Daphne, and Harry found himself on his way to the Dungeons for potions. Hermione had gone back to the Arithmancy class, saying she'd forgotten a textbook, but since he didn't want to evoke even more of Snape's ire by being late, he went ahead.

As he walked through the door, he was waved over by Ron, who had saved Harry a seat next to him. "Thanks for saving me a spot."

Ron just shrugged. "Hermione wasn't here yet, so… yeah."

Eloquent as always.

After a few minutes, Snape came striding in with his long cloak billowing behind him; when were people going to learn that _trying_ to look dramatic just makes you look like an idiot? It was fairly obvious who Malfoy took his pointers from.

Class started with his trademark sneer. "Today we will be brewing the Energizing Draught commonly known as the 'Pepper Up' potion." His lips curled in disgust at the name.

"You'll find your directions on the board, and have one hour to complete the assignment. What are you waiting for? Get to work!" There was a mass scramble to get out cauldrons and supplies, no one willing to be the last person ready.

Having set up his equipment, Harry began to copy the directions into his notebook.

'Ok, set the flame to burn at two hundred and fifty degrees, add three hundred and fifty millilitres of water and bring it to a boil.' When done setting up that, he began to prepare his ingredients; the directions said to add two hundred grams of Boomslang bark dust, then thirty grams of crushed Crystal Wing moths every thirty seconds, while stirring one clockwise turn every second and a half.

Harry remembered reading something in his Brewing Solutions, it was part of the section explaining why a Solution worked the way it did, and talked about Magical Diffusion. Apparently something like ninety percent of potions accidents were caused when you added too much of a magical ingredient into a potion too fast, usually ending in an explosion.

The reason behind this was Magical Diffusion; what made ingredients magical was the ambient magic inside them, and the point of brewing was to harness it. But, they're caustic forces, and if you add too much of them at once, the magic could not contain itself. Depending on the ingredients, it affected the rate at which you could safely add them. Stirring sped up the process, manually mixing the different energies.

So, if Harry wanted to make the brewing take less time, he could increase the rate of mixing. That is, of course, without adding enough to blow himself up.

Jotting down some quick calculations, Harry determined that he could safely add twenty grams every ten seconds, if he made five clockwise turns then one counter clockwise turn. If he was right, the Boomslang would reach magical saturation much faster, since there was a higher constant Diffusion, and this stage would only take four minutes, instead of the usual fifteen.

After double checking his calculations, Harry threw in the first ingredient, stirring until the water turned a light ash gray. Then he added the second, making sure to follow his own directions perfectly. It said that the potion was supposed to slowly turn a dark blue, but Harry's was a bright baby blue. He wasn't overly concerned, though, this was most likely caused by the higher magic levels in his brewing process.

Four minutes later Harry's potion was the perfectly described color, and he was ten minutes ahead of schedule.

"_How_ are you doing that?" Harry turned to find Hermione sitting two seats to his left; damn girl just kept sneaking up on him.

She was diligently following Snape's instructions, and was clearly confused as to how he was so far ahead. He offered her a shrug in response, and kept working on his potion. He wasn't gonna screw this one up by ignoring it to have a discussion about Magical Diffusion.

He repeated the process when adding the rest of his ingredients, always adding them at the fastest rate possible, and after twenty five minutes he was completely finished. His modifications to the brewing process had probably been more difficult, but the results spoke for themselves. Bottling his results, he walked to the front of the class to hand it in.

Snape took his potion with a glare, scrutinizing it intensely before placing it in the rack. Harry was a little pleased when he saw his was the first one there.

The rest of the class went by fairly quickly. Harry helped Ron with the rest of his potion, salvaging it for the most part, and he'd probably manage an Acceptable. Hermione had been the second person to finish, and she'd sent him a mock glare while pointing at his completed potion.

After packing up her equipment, she came over to their table. "So, are you going to tell me what you did, or do I have to beg?"

Harry was almost tempted to tease her about being jealous, but decided to just play nice. "Here, just read over my notes for today, you'll get it." Flipping it to the page where his calculations had started, he once again relinquished his notes to her.

"Trying to break Hermione again?" Ron said while watching her read over Harry's notes. "If so, good on you."

Harry could easily say it was the best Potions class he'd ever had. No Snape criticizing his poor performance, no Malfoy to annoy him, and he'd even managed to once again befuddle the all knowing Hermione. Definitely a good way to start the year.

XXX

Apparently the once cloudy sky had cleared up during their Potions class. The sun shone through with the occasional lazy cloud blocking it temporarily; perfect weather for their first Care of Magical Creatures class. After a quick lunch break, it was off to Hagrid's cabin.

Harry set a leisurely pace; he'd gone ahead of Ron and Hermione again, since he didn't really want to another fifteen minutes for Ron to finish shovelling food down his throat. Honestly, how he ate so much utterly bewildered Harry.

When he arrived, Harry was dismayed to see that the only people present were him, Seamus, and Malfoy's group. So far they hadn't noticed him, so he simply leaned against a nearby tree and tried to ignore their tittering conversation.

"… Honestly, when my father hears this buffoon is teaching classes, he's going to get him ousted for sure!"

'Screw ignoring _that _crap,' Harry thought viciously. 'I'm gonna knock that bastards teeth in!'

Harry's adrenaline filled mind didn't care that Crabbe and Goyle would probably knock his block off if he tried anything, or that it was five against one, or even that he didn't really know how to fight; Malfoy was going to bleed. "Oi, Malfoy! Want to shut the hell up?"

Although he had their attention, the group didn't seem overly concerned about his presence.

"What," his voice sounded amused, but Harry could see his eyes were watching him carefully. "Is little Potty scared that Dumbledore's pet giant is going to get sacked?" The group laughed stupidly at the weak insult.

"No, you just sound like a twelve year old girl whining because daddy won't let her get her belly button pierced, and it's really starting to make my ears bleed." Harry closed the distance between them, so they were a scant two feet apart. "Although, I'm curious; do you cry like one?"

Harry's swing had no technique to it, or finesse, it was just him throwing all his weight into a hard right hook at Malfoy's face, and Harry was pretty sure he would never forgot the look of surprise and pain on his face as he crumpled to the ground.

But the moment of bliss was interrupted quickly, because Crabbe and Goyle reacted a lot quicker than Harry thought they would, reaching for him as soon as Malfoy hit the ground.

They rushed forward, trying to use their much larger size against him, so Harry knocked Goyle in the face with a few jabs until he grabbed his arm, trying to pin it down. Harry got a few jerking elbows into his face, with a satisfying stream of blood coming from his nose, before Crabbe hit him in the ribs from behind.

Harry almost went down right there, but with Goyle holding him up, Harry was able to send a flailing backhand fist into Crabbe's face, but his arm was quickly pinned behind him with the other. With his arms trapped by Goyle, Crabbe gave him a revenge punch to the face before laying into him with body shots.

It hurt like hell.

The hits were savage; dumb and dumber were still _way_ stronger than him, and even though all Harry wanted to do was lie down and start puking, he made a last ditch effort to bring his legs up and kick Crabbe in the chest with all the force he could muster.

His plan worked, and it not only sent Crabbe flying back, tripping over his own robes, but also knocked Goyle over, dragging Harry with him. Without even thinking, Harry began to viciously smash the back of his head into Goyle's nose repeatedly, and with a scream of pain his arms were released.

Quickly, he turned around, punching his former captor in the face a few times before he was kicked over by a now standing Malfoy. His face was already turning a dark purple from where Harry had hit him, and his eyes were filled with rage. Harry expected some long winded rant about superiority, so it came as quite the surprise when Malfoy began to boot him in the back and ribs over and over, with a complete lack of taunting or jeering.

Although Goyle was down for the count, his distant sobs of anguish a symphony of triumph to Harry, Crabbe quickly joined in, and he was slowly sinking into a world of pain. There were incomprehensible shouts all around him, and suddenly the kicks stopped.

"… you 'ear me, Harry? You alright?"

Hagrid had apparently shown up and pulled them off of Harry, probably saving him from an even more thorough beating, and his face was filled with concern and guilt, most likely sorry that he hadn't been there to prevent this.

Even though his ribs all hurt like hell, and he was most assuredly _not_ alright, Harry put on a brave face for Hagrid. "Yeah, I'm fine, they couldn't kick their way out of a paper bag."

Ignoring his outstretched hand, Harry hopped up quickly, trying to make it seem like he didn't need help.

Too bad it made him want to gasp in pain.

Apparently while they were fighting, more students had shown up, though he hadn't noticed at the time, and Seamus was sporting a swelling black eye. "Seamus, what happened to you?"

"Sorry, mate," he said while picking bits of dirt off his robes, "I tried to give you a hand, but that ass Miles Bletchy got in my way." Looking over at Bletchy, Harry thought the other boy looked far worse for ware than Seamus.

"You don't have to say sorry." Harry wiped a hand over his lip, and it came away bloody. "Hell, it takes a special kind of crazy to pick a fight like that, so thanks for trying to help. Speaking of which, anyone got a mirror? I gotta make sure they haven't ravaged my good looks."

Lavender Brown, a pretty blond Gryffindor, timidly offered him a compact mirror. "Here, you can use mine."

Taking it with a thanks, he surveyed the damage; aside from his busted lip, the visible trauma was actually pretty minimal, most of it being under his robes. After he'd cleaned off the blood, he actually looked the least scathed out of the bunch, even if he felt like a well tenderized steak.

"Well, I think I'll live another day. Thanks again for the mirror."

She offered him a shy smile, and flipped her hair around in a pretty way. "Any time, but lets hope it's not because you were in another fight."

Seamus came from behind and clapped a hand on his back. "Man, I've seen quite a few scraps, but that was as brutal as any can get. Hell, look at Goyle!" The boy was being half carried off to the castle, most likely to the Hospital Wing. "Remind me to not get on your bad side without more backup than these idiots."

"Yeah, I had 'em right where I wanted them," Harry joked. "Even though it _looked_ like I was getting stomped, it was totally a trap to lure them into a false sense of security."

Lavender and Seamus laughed, and the mood begins to lighten. Hagrid, who was questioning some students nearby, seemed to be very relieved at Harry's high spirits. Good thing, too; it wouldn't be good for him to be a nervous wreck on his first day of teaching.

Apparently Hagrid didn't want to make the situation worse, though, and no points were taken or detentions given, which Harry thought was pretty awesome, since he'd technically started the fight.

His adrenaline high was slowly draining away, and soon after his ribs started to ache painfully. Meanwhile, a steady trickle of students continued to show up, and was informed about what happened in excited whispers. So far as he could tell, people had seen Goyle on his way back, and after a look at the rest of them, assumed Harry had been the obvious winner.

If only they knew.

That made him come to a startling realization, though; Harry couldn't even defend himself against a bunch of thirteen year old students, but he had a mass murdering wizard after him. If Black ever found him, Harry wouldn't last a second, and that knowledge was deeply unsettling.

'I mean, I don't even know any spells to _hide_, let alone fight!' Humbled considerably by ache in his ribs, Harry vowed to learn how to defend himself. 'I said I wouldn't go down without a fight, so I better make good on my word.'

"Oi, mate, you look like shit!"

Well, in the very least, you can trust Ron for his honesty.

"Yeah, well I'm still a damn sight prettier than you!"

They both laugh good heartedly, although it was cut short by Hermione's admonishment, "Harry, are you daft? First a Dementor, then a group of Slytherins by yourself?" Harry wished that she would find a new way to convey her concern, aside from chastising him, "Maybe Ron's right, and you have gone screwy."

He nearly died of surprise when he realised Hermione had just made a joke, which she never did in what she considered a 'serious' situation.

"What's this about our boy bein' screwy?" Seamus cut in, "If that's the case, I agree entirely. Should have seen him in the fight, right rabid dog, he was."

Lavender put on a mock damsel in distress voice, "Oh, you should have seen the carnage! I feared he was going to ravage us all."

The conversation quickly became 'mock Harry's stupidity,' and he took it in stride, smiling and laughing at all their jokes. To be fair, they were right, so there was no use getting annoyed with them. But it was during this time her realised Daphne had shown up, and was shooting him concerned glances while pretending to give a crap about Malfoy.

He sent her a small wave of reassurance when the other Snakes weren't looking, which seemed to to help alleviate ay concern she had for his state. Which was kind of surreal, having a Slytherin worrying about him in the first place.

"Alright, everyone, welcome to Care of Magical Creatures." Hagrid greeted, apparently sure that all the students had arrived. "Now, today bein' our first class n' all, I've got a special treat for ya."

Apparently their 'Special Treat' was Hippogriffs, which, in hindsight, wasn't exactly the safest thing for their first class. After introducing Buckbeak, and explaining the way to greet him, Hagrid had asked the class for a volunteer, and even though the thing was damn terrifying, Harry agreed to for Hagrid's sake.

Once up close, he realised that Hagrid had been right; they really were beautiful creatures, in a deadly sort of way. Powerful, proud, respectable and about as noble a creature Harry had ever seen, and while petting Buckbeak, he got the feeling the animal was treating this like a king who greets the peasants.

After doing a quick couple of laps around the stables, Harry touched down next to Hagrid, trying not to fall on his ass.

"Great work, Harry!" Roared Hagrid while handing the Hippogriff a treat. "Now, everyone pair up into groups of five and pick one."

The class slowly split up, a few of them trying to recruit Harry for some pointers, but he stuck with Ron, Hermione, Seamus and Lavender.

That's when trouble hit, though, as Malfoy, who had taken over Buckbeak with his group of Slytherins, was petting his beak with a disdainful look. "Yeah, these things are sure proud if they'll let _Potter_ ride them; you're really just a stupid ugly beast, aren't you?"

It happened in a flash of steely talons; one moment, everything was fine, then Malfoy was on the ground with blood spurting from his arm, and Hagrid was wrestling Buckbeak away from him.

"I'm dying!" Malfoy yelled, as the class panicked. "I'm dying, look at me! It's killed me!"

Hagrid tried to placate the sobbing fool, and quickly picked him up to carry him to the Hospital Wing. Which, when Harry thought about it, was even worse, because it was the second student to be sent there in one class.

A wave of guilt swept over Harry.

The class followed Hagrid at a walk, figuring class to be over after something like that. "They should sack him straight away!" shrieked Pansy Parkinson.

"Oh come off it," Dean Thomas said, cutting her off. "It was Malfoy's own damn fault for not listening."

Crabbe tried to flex his muscles threateningly, but with Goyle currently incapacitated by Harry, it really lost the effect it may have had before.

"Shove off, you overly glorified ape," Seamus mocked while brushing past him, "Or you'll be joinin' yer friends."

The rest of Harry's classes went by uneventfully. After returning to the Gryffindor Common Room to wait for Transfiguration to start, he found he just couldn't concentrate in class, too preoccupied by his festering guilt about Hagrid. Not only had he been responsible for sending a student for medical help, because Malfoy didn't get to properly retaliate during the fight, he most likely taunted Buckbeak out of spite.

So, it was really all his fault in the end.

He'd been so absorbed in thought he'd barely remembered any of the lesson, and was staring at his empty Transfiguration essay with annoyance. "Screw this," he blurted out to gain their attention, "Let's go visit Hagrid; we've got time before curfew and he's probably worried sick."

Ron and Hermione readily agreed, so after packing up their essays, they were off to Hagrid's cabin.

XXX

**Author's Note, please read: **

Well, I had this chapter finished for about five days now, but couldn't stop redoing certain scenes I was unsatisfied with; Harry's fist fight being the most annoying out of the bunch. I suspect it is terrible and offended all of you.

For anyone who is wondering why Harry would confront them now, while he wouldn't in cannon, it is based around the fact that his once low self confidence is rising, since he's now proud of the work he's putting in. So, with more confidence, Harry confronts Malfoy in the way he'd always wanted to… Even if it was a bad idea.

On another note, I suggest you take any mathematical laws I present with a grain of salt. They may not always be perfect, but I chalk that up to magic being far more difficult to quantify. I will try to present all my ideas in an easily understandable way, but sometimes Harry doesn't get it yet, so you won't either. I tried to show this with Magical Numbers.

This is also true for Potions, although I feel my ideas of Magical Diffusion are spot on. Too many times have I read a story where Harry is suddenly a Potions master, but no additional understanding is presented. So, I set up a plausible reasoning for why he is better at it, and explained what he was doing better.

Now, for those who like to review, (I love you, by the way.) I request a favour from you. Although it is not required, when you review a chapter if you could leave a little mark out of 10 at them bottom, it would be appreciated. This will help me get a feeling for how all of you feel about the chapter, so if it's bad, mark it low and be honest.

Of course, don't stop giving more in depth reviews about the story, this is just another tool to help me write better. And, as always, if anything really stands out in my writing, make note of it, whether bad or good.

Now, this AN is dragging on, isn't it? Ciao!


	4. Brilliance Shall Spawn Creativity

Personal Disclaimer: This chapter is terrible and I hate it. But, in the interest of simply moving on with the story, I give you this horrible and putrid excuse for writing. Enjoy!

Important Author's Note: Please, please, _**please**_ do not assume you know who I'm going to pair Harry with. Some of you may feel that this chapter is evidence of who he will be with, but do not put too much weight on a few offhand comments; Harry is a heterosexual thirteen year old male, and will take notice of the opposite sex.

That is all.

Chapter Four

Brilliance Shall Spawn Creativity

Harry awoke groggily the next morning after spending half the night tossing and turning in his bed. Last night they had gone to visit Hagrid, to comfort him, but it had just made Harry feel even guiltier. They'd found him in his cabin, quite drunk, trying to drown his sorrows away. Apparently there was a very high chance of him getting sacked, or so Hagrid thinks, and it was gnawing at Harry's consciousness. So, he'd made Hagrid promise to let him speak in his defence when the Board of Governors came to question him.

With reluctance, he agreed, but almost immediately afterwards Hagrid seemed to process the fact that Harry was out after dark, and bellowed so loud for him to go back to the castle that Harry was sure it would have alerted Black, no matter where he was.

But, even with Hagrid's promise, Harry knew he wouldn't feel better about it until he'd made things right; he wasn't going to let someone else suffer for _his_ mistake.

Rolling out of bed, he checked his timetable, noting that he had Herbology first thing. Not exactly the most interesting class, but easy enough. So, with a sigh, he braced himself for the day to come.

XXX

Although Harry had expected Herbology to be a bust, it came as quite the shock when Ancient Runes had been even more boring. After finding a seat with Hermione, he'd eagerly waited for the lesson to begin. The problem was that their teacher, Professor Rubin, was an aging man who believed in a thorough understanding of Runes before attempting any practical work.

Technically, this was probably the correct way to teach the course, but it also made for a very tedious lesson; they would be spending the first term entirely focused on the language aspect of Runes, and wouldn't be studying the practical uses until after winter break. That isn't to say Harry wasn't doing anything, though; while he had a firm grasp of how to use Runes, his knowledge of the actual language was minimal. While he had been writing them before to say things like, 'Make this paper float,' he was now learning how to talk about his day in perfect grammar.

This is both difficult and dull.

By the end of class, Harry promised himself that he would find a place to independently study the subject, in an effort to save his floundering interest. So after eating a quick lunch, he began to look for an appropriate place to set up shop, since you couldn't really make any of the truly interesting magical objects in the library.

The first idea he had was to find an empty classroom, but he quickly learned that was a lost cause. There weren't many unused classes in the first place, and all of the existing ones were highly coveted by older students as hang out spots; Harry wanted a place that he could leave his work and come back to it later, so having a bunch of student's trash it really didn't fit his idea of prime real estate. Plus, after his near beating by Malfoy and Crabbe, he would probably use the area to practice spells, which would require privacy.

Unfortunately, Harry's search wasn't turning up any other results. Hidden alcoves were too easy to find, old broom closets too small, and everything else was too public. With a sigh of dejection, Harry figured that he would have to ask the twins if they knew a place; they were always concocting something insidious, and that kind of stuff couldn't be made in plain sight. So, it stood to reason that they knew some private areas to work.

Seeing as there was still twenty minutes before the end of lunch, Harry rushed to the Great Hall in an effort to find the twins before they left for class. He found them in a whispered discussion with Lee Jordan, a fifth year student they were close friends with. "Fred, George, think I could talk to you for second?"

"Why of course, young Harry." They muttered a few quick final words to Lee, and then followed him out the doors of the Great Hall.

"Now," Fred began with a clap of excitement, "To what do we owe the honour?"

Harry leaned against the wall behind him, trying to look casual. "I need a favour."

"And may this have to do with yesterday's offer?" George inquired, "If so, then you ask at a most opportune moment; Lee thinks he might be able to get his hands on a rather large stockpile of unsavoury devices, as per our request."

"No, nothing big, I just wanted to know if you knew of any private places I could get some 'extracurricular activities' done." Harry tried to say it in a way that, while keeping their interest, wouldn't garner many questions. "After all, there are some things that require a little… discretion."

Taking his words in the worst meaning possible, they immediately approved.

"Oh, we've got plenty of places you could use--"

"--Of course," George cut in, "you'll have to use them responsibly." Their mischievous grins made it quite clear about what they considered responsible. "Meet us in the Common Room after classes; we'll show you around then."

With a quick wave goodbye, they set off down the corridor at a brisk pace.

'Quite frankly, I think they'll be insulted if they ever find out I'm using the room to study.' Harry chuckled at the irony of the situation, and then made his way to Charms.

XXX

A few hours later, Harry was setting up shop in his new domain. The room Fred and George had found him was technically not a room at all, and instead was caved in secret passage; apparently it had used to travel into Hogsmeade, which told Harry he may be able to go after all. Filing the info away for later use, he begged off the twins so he could start redecorating.

The most glaring problem was that one of his 'walls' were simply a pile of dusty rubble, which wasn't exactly the best environment for brewing potions and such.

A common misconception with Transfiguration is that objects you transfigure won't last forever, which is incorrect… for the most part. What Harry had learned was that when you transfigured an object into something else, it would stay in that form indefinitely, most likely until someone countered the spell. But the reason wizards still required raw materials like wood and metal is because if you transfigured the objects they could not be affected by Enchantments or Runes.

The reason behind this was fairly complex, but it boiled down to one fact; if you turned a desk into a pig, then it would look like a pig, smell like a pig, and act like a pig, but the fact of the matter was that it is still a desk. On a base level, magic knew this, and so when scribing a Runic System it is impossible to define the object, because while it may look like a pig, it isn't, and while it was truly a desk, it didn't look like it; this in between definition was indefinable by current magical theory.

So, because of this, one had to be careful with what you transfigured; if you ate transfigured food, then one day it would be cancelled, and all the nutrients and fats your body absorbed from it would suddenly turn into its original form. This would obviously be incredibly painful, if not fatal.

But, for now, Transfiguration would suit Harry's purposes for decorating his new room; he didn't need magical furniture, so using magic to create it was perfectly fine, as long as he kept the furniture simple and easy to visualize.

He quickly levitated some of the rubble into another corner, transfiguring some of it into a large white sheet that spanned from floor to ceiling. Then, using a quick sticking charm he'd found in a book called Common Household Spells, he sealed off the remaining rubble with the sheet.

'Sometimes,' he thought with a wry smile, 'the simplest solutions are the best.'

The room was fairly large, if narrow, for obvious reasons, and he estimated it to be roughly eight meters by four meters. The walls were made of the same old yet sturdy stones as the rest of the school, with white marble floors. It was plain and simple, and Harry liked it.

Using some of the rubble he'd set aside, Harry transfigured it into a long wooden table that could be used as a work bench or desk. He shimmied it into place against one of the longer walls, satisfied with his creation. Next he made a set of two wooden shelves roughly two meters high and placed them opposite of the work bench; if he was planning to keep his projects here, he would need a place to put them.

Taking a quick break, Harry surveyed the room. 'Something's missing…'

In a moment of inspiration he transfigured the last of the rubble into a large target board with a stand. If he was going to practice spells, he'd need something to shoot at. For now, he tucked it into a corner and would bring it out when he needed it.

'Well, I guess now all I have to do is smuggle my supplies in here.'

He needed to bring one of his potion sets, ingredients, rune carving tools, and books before he could really get any practical work done. There was also the issue of lighting, as the room was normally pitch black; he was currently using another Lumos Ball to see, but it was like working with a flashlight.

Satisfied with his work so far, Harry tapped his wand on the trick mirror, which was the entrance to his workshop, and set off towards the library for project inspiration.

XXX

A bead of sweat ran down Harry's face as he flew through well practiced wand movements. It didn't matter that he was only casting weak cutting curses; strength wasn't the purpose of his practice. No, today he was working on something much more difficult… trying to hit the damn target.

One thing that isn't mentioned enough, in Harry's opinion, is how difficult it is to aim spells properly.

If spells were like guns, meaning just 'point and shoot,' then things would be much easier. But no, aiming spells made wave your 'gun' around in random patterns before you even took aim, and then you had a short amount of time to aim while you said the incantation. On top of that, most spells had very different Binding combinations, so you couldn't simply practice a certain set until you were proficient; you had to grow used to the frantic style.

At this point he was hitting the target board fairly consistently, but not with any great deal of accuracy, and he had yet to get a bulls eye.

"_Diffindo! … Diffindo! … __**Diffindo!"**_

With his frustration boiling over, Harry was overcharging his spells, destabilizing the spell net and causing his accuracy to be even lower. Realising this, he stopped for a breath; there was no point in tiring himself out on a pointless endeavour.

A loud ringing noise signalled his timer had gone off, and that he had to begin the next stage of his potion. It was a variation of your typical Energizing Draught, but instead of it being the equivalent of coffee on steroids, his version was like a well balanced meal in a single gulp; it was a large chore to go get lunch while in his workshop, so he made this instead. Of course, like most potions of this nature, it had the risk of dependency if you used it too often, so Harry had to limit his use of it.

As he stirred in the next batch of ingredients, he looked over at his current Ancient Runes project; so far it was just theory, but it was quickly becoming a reality. All of his old devices had a common limitation in that they could only cast one spell, and only that spell. Because of this, his goal for the new project was to create a device capable of multiple spells, but it had proved much more difficult that he'd imagined.

It made him realise he owed Professor Rubin an apology for criticizing his teaching style; the only reason he was nearing completion on this project was because of his more developed knowledge of Ancient Runes sentence structure. When scribing a Runic System there can't be any unclear parts, and writing out commands in halting broken sentences simply would not work. While simple systems like his Lumos Ball could get away with single sentence commands, a complex variable Runic System like this would require much more precise ones; this obviously required a more accurate sentence structure.

Harry had considered many possible designs, but had settled on a touchpad system. In the design there were certain areas that, when pressed on, would change the spell being cast. The Runic System was fairly complex, about on the level of modern day brooms, and when translated it essentially meant, 'If Area One is being touched, cast Lumos. If Area Two is being touched, cast…'

Now he was just working out the kinks in his system; if there were any contradicting commands, then it would not function properly.

His potion finished, Harry set it aside to cool.

In his first week back to Hogwarts, he had quickly realised how much he needed these private study sessions. Although he hadn't known it at first, he now appreciated the simple bliss of exploring his own interests, and because of that he hadn't shown Ron or Hermione his workshop yet.

It wasn't that he didn't want them there, but he felt like their presence would change the purpose of his room; Hermione would want to do school work, and use it for extra study time, while Ron would simply want to hang out, and try to get him to 'put away all this rubbish.'

Harry never really made excuses about where he was going; he simply said he was going to go work on a few things, which they naturally thought meant the library. Last year this may have come across as unusual, and inspire curiosity in them, but his recent change in attitude made it seem perfectly normal.

Maybe he would tell them at some point, but, for now, he would enjoy it while he could. With that in mind, Harry drank his lunch and continued to fire cutting curses at the mangled target.

XXX

"… Now, who can tell me what a Boggart is?"

Harry was currently attending his first Defence class, and it was already shaping up to be very interesting; for the first time in memory, they were having a practical lesson. After telling the class to leave their books behind and bring their wands, Professor Lupin led them to the teachers lounge to confront a nefarious looking closet.

Predictably, Hermione had her hand in the air first. "It's a shape-shifter," she said. "One that will change into the form of what it thinks will frighten us the most."

"Excellent! Five points to Gryffindor."

After a somewhat hilarious demonstration of the Riddikulus spell by Neville and a Snape-Boggart dressed in his grand mother's clothes, Lupin told them to line up and take turns trying the spell.

To Harry, this seemed like a fairly personal thing to expose to the world; what if one of the kids had a shitty home life, or was sexually abused? Would the Boggart come out as the offender? It seemed, to him at least, that there were a lot of fears you wouldn't want a class of thirteen year olds to know about.

At first he thought of Voldemort when he was at his full power, but then his mind thought of the cold dead hands and rattling breath of the Dementors; which did he really fear the most? Harry's palms began to sweat as the line began to dwindle, and despite being near the back, his turn was fast approaching.

Just as he was about to step up to the reeling Boggart, Professor Lupin called him, "Ah, Harry, could I speak to you for a moment?"

"Yes, sir?"

A look of consideration flashed across his face before he answered, "I just wanted to make sure that, if you were to confront the Boggart, we weren't going to have any Dark Lords running around the room?"

Harry visibly tensed at the question.

"I don't know, to be honest." Harry ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "At first, I thought it would be him, but… after the train ride, I'm not so sure, you know?" He could feel his face heating up in embarrassment; why was he so afraid of them when they affected others far less?

"That is very wise, Harry, it means the thing you fear the greatest is fear itself." Lupin gestured to the class. "Regardless though, I don't think that is something I want to expose to the class, which I'm sure you can understand."

Harry nodded numbly; if he didn't want to be around one, what right did he have to force the others to? No, Lupin was right, even if it hurt his pride.

What Harry needed, now more than ever with Black after him, was a place he could hone his skills, and learn to defend himself; a target board was great to improve your accuracy, but it wouldn't teach him how to duel. With this in mind, Harry tentatively approached the Professor with his idea.

"Professor, I was thinking, and some of the other students agree," This was a small lie, as he hadn't talked to anyone about this. "Well, you see, last year we had this Duelling Club -- which was a complete failure, don't get me wrong, but that had more to do with the teachers running it." Lupin's face melted into a look of comprehension. "And I just though that, with everything going on this year, a lot of students would appreciate the chance to learn to defend themselves."

Lupin considered it for a moment. "I think your idea has merit, and I'll talk to the Headmaster about it."

"Thank you, sir."

XXX

Harry tied the laces to his running shoes, mentally preparing himself for the morning. After a particularly vigorous practice in his workshop, which left him completely winded, he officially knew he was out of shape. He wasn't really interested in resistance training, but could definitely increase his stamina with cardio. So, he decided that he would go running every other morning to get in shape.

This of course meant waking up at six in the morning, which was not pleasant.

Also, with Quidditch practices starting soon, it would be a good idea to prepare before hand; it had worked wonders with his summer studying, so it stood to reason that it could work here.

As he stepped out into the cold morning air, he couldn't help but shiver. The weather was grey and uninviting, with wind that cut straight through the old t-shirt and basketball shorts he was wearing.

Oh well, he'd set himself to the task and he was going to stick to it.

He set himself a sedate pace around the lake, which was about a kilometre around. After a while, the cold air began to bother him less, as his body heated up from the physical work. Then, he began to appreciate the cold weather even more, realising that it was actually a blessing in disguise that helped him keep cool during his jog.

After only one lap he was huffing and puffing obscenely; was he really that out of shape? Having played Quidditch the last three years, he thought he'd be able to handle more than this.

His embarrassment only increased as other students began to pass him in droves, as he wasn't the only one out this morning. It was mostly older students looking to be fifth year and above, but he was also passed by a Hufflepuff in his year.

Just as he thought the most of the school had already passed him by -- in which he began to hate the sentence 'On your left!' -- He heard the familiar crunching sound of a final lone runner about to pass him. Harry's pride got the better of him, and he picked up his speed to stay ahead of his unknown combatant.

Not that they knew Harry was racing them.

He managed to stay ahead of the mystery racer for a few minutes, but they were constantly gaining, always closing the distance between them a little more. With a final desperate burst of speed, Harry pulled ahead for a final few metres before slowing to a walk, gasping; his unknowing opponent trotted by in complete nonchalance, which annoyed him in its innocence. Cheeky bitch!

His eyes did a double take as he realised that not only was the victor a girl, Harry knew her; her unmistakable black hair was tied up in a high pony tail reaching the middle of her back, but it was definitely the same girl -- Daphne.

Clad in a very tight pair of green running shorts, which only reached half way down her thighs, and an equally tight white tank top, a small part of his brain acknowledged that she looked quite fetching. Hell, with an ass like that she could make garbage bags look fashionable!

Apparently she had not recognized him, because she ran by without a second glance. Not exactly sure why, but most likely very relevant to the color green and spandex, he called out to her. "Daphne!"

The Slytherin girl spun around in surprise mid stride, and in doing so tripped over her own feet, falling painfully onto her bottom. She picked herself up and glared at him, only to belatedly realise who he was. "Potter? What are you doing here?"

He chuckled lightly. "Same thing as you, I'd imagine, minus the whole falling on my ass deal, which doesn't look too fun."

Dusting her backside off, she sent him a glare. "Oh, is that why you were going so slow, making sure you put the right foot in front of the other?"

Harry put up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, point taken." They began to walk around the lake at a moderate pace. "Do you run often?"

"Ever since first year -- Helps clear my head when I can't work, if that makes any sense." She took a moment to retie her pony tail, which was apparently coming loose. "What about you?"

"Actually, I just started today; Quidditch practice starts soon, and I want to be ready." He failed to mention that it was also for his spell practice, but it wasn't really something he was comfortable talking to her about. "Although, with Malfoy as your Seeker, I don't have much competition."

"Oh, don't even get me started with that! You should have heard the common room in our second year when his father bought him a spot on the team, completely ruining our chances at the cup. If his father hadn't bought the whole team a Nimbus Two-Thousand and One he wouldn't have survived the year."

"Interesting," He started to jog at a slow pace, which Daphne joined him in. "I thought you said Malfoy practically had Slytherin in his pocket?"

"At that point, no." She seemed to consider for a moment. "It was actually soon after that that he started to throw his father's political weight around, using it to get his way."

So Malfoy had only been in power for a year? That would most likely make it easier to overthrow him, as his dictatorship was relatively new.

"So, keeping up with your Arithmancy assignments?" Harry asked, changing the topic.

Her face immediately put on a sour expression.

"I'm trying to, but every time I feel like I understand the material, she throws something at us entirely over my head; it's so damn frustrating!"

Their conversation degenerated into school matters, and Harry found that he was able to run farther with someone to distract him. After four laps, they headed inside to get ready for class; much to his annoyance, she wasn't even winded.

XXX

The weeks leading up to October had been uneventful. Harry still spent time in his workshop, jogging every other morning, and had been keeping up with his homework. He had finished his Multi-Spell Runic System design and was currently working on applying it to a practical design; he had several ideas in mind, but hadn't picked a particular one yet.

Harry's work in his classes had continued to improve, and while he never went out of his way to answer questions in class, his professors were taking notice. They often left comments on his graded assignments saying how they were impressed with his intimate knowledge of the subject, surprised with the level of detail in his work. And, although this pleased him on some level, he could tell that Hermione was beginning to resent the brain power shift.

When there was an obscure question regarding some fact about Hogwarts, Hermione was the one you wanted to find, but increasingly Ron had come to Harry with his assignments instead of her. For all the time she spent telling them to do their own work and stop copying off her, she wasn't too excited when they finally did. Harry didn't know if it was entirely his fault, but Hermione had been looking quite stressed with her massive workload, and had taken on a fanatical edge in the classes she had with him.

Needless to say, he was beginning to worry.

But now that October had rolled around, Harry had a new mistress vying for his time: Quidditch.

After his run, Harry had taken to flying a few practice laps around the Quidditch Pitch on his Nimbus Two-thousand; he was approaching the skill he had at the end of his second year, but a summer completely grounded had dampened his flying.

At their first practice, Oliver Wood had given them a heartfelt pep talk, reminding them that they had the best team this year, and were a shoe in for the Cup. Everyone could sense the desperate edge to his voice; this was Oliver's last year at Hogwarts, and thus his last chance to win.

Unfortunately, Harry's suggestion to Professor Lupin didn't appear that it was going to happen, as no Duelling Club had been announced yet. He was slightly disappointed, as he had honed his aim to the point that he deemed acceptable; no matter the spell, he managed to hit the target fairly accurately, and he wanted to test his skill at a moving, intelligent target.

There was one thing that had managed to put a damper on his spirits, though; the first trip to Hogsmeade had been announced, and was on the Halloween. Harry had yet to talk to the twins about finding a way out of the castle, but he planned to soon.

If all went well, he'd be joining Ron and Hermione.

XXX

It was Halloween day and Harry had never seen his classmates so excited; everyone babbled on endlessly about the many fantastic and interesting things in Hogsmeade, and all the shops they were going to visit. Since Harry technically not supposed to be going, he acted very sad and dejected.

Good thing he had talked to the twins.

After explaining his predicament, and throwing in a few choice words about his 'Rotten muggle relatives,' to garner their sympathy, Fred and George had readily agreed to help him. As Harry had reasoned, his private workshop was not the only way into Hogsmeade, and they had given him instructions on how to use another, which was located behind the statue of the one eyed witch.

Harry glanced around to make sure no one was nearby before tapping the statue with his wand, and then said quietly, "Descendium."

Immediately the witch's hump opened up, allowing room for a person to slip through. Harry was surprised, as his secret passage made secret workshop was far easier to enter. Oh well, beggars can't be choosers. He slipped in head first and slid down what felt like a large stone slide, then landed on cold, damp earth. The corridor was pitch black, so Harry muttered a quick Lumos.

Harry walked for what felt like ages in an endless corridor full of twists and turns, making it seem more like something an animal would dig than a human being. Eventually though, he came to a set of stairs.

He lost count at one hundred steps, and the only thing that made him keep walking was the thought of Dervish and Banges; the wizarding equipment shop was apparently full of all kinds of magical objects.

Eventually Harry hit his head on some kind of trap door, and he could hear the sounds of people above. Slowly pushing it open, he found himself in the backroom of Honeydukes, and using as much stealth as possible, he slipped out unnoticed.

As soon as Harry made his way into the front of the shop, his mind began to reel from the sheer magnitude of the shops selection; there must have been thousands of things to choose from! Chocolate Bats with a cherry filling center, which would try to bite you back; every single Berty Botts Every Flavour Bean, and a catalogue to find that elusive one you've always wanted to try; and an odd assortment of chocolates shaped as famous wizards and witches, which he was pretty sure he recognized himself in the selection.

Harry resisted the temptation to start buying candies, and instead made his way out into the crowded streets; his target was far less delicious, but far more interesting.

The hustle and bustle of Hogsmeade didn't let up on his trips to Dervish and Banges -- which had taken quite some time, as he didn't know where it was, so he was quite relieved when he found himself in front of the correct shop.

"Ah, hello there, young man; what can I help you with?"

The shopkeeper was an aging man of mild description; he had brown hair and eyes, with plain but well kept robes.

"Just browsing for now, I'll ask you if I need anything."

As Harry's eyes scanned the shop he saw a large selection of small trinkets, which he figured was a good a place as any to start looking. He quickly realised that while the selection was vast, the useful items were few; there were cooking pots proclaiming that they would self heat, but that was a relatively simple Rune that heated the metal. To his disappointment, the other items were no more complicated; clearly the witch or wizard producing them didn't have much of an imagination.

Figuring it would be rude to not buy at least one thing, Harry picked up a self heating cauldron -- which was, admittedly, very useful -- and purchased it quickly before leaving. Even though he was understandably disappointed, Harry soldiered on to the next shop on his list; he had other things to do today, and wouldn't let an unimaginative shop bring his spirits down.

Harry's next stop was a tailor, where he needed to pick up a special set of robes for a project he was working on, one that he didn't want ruining his every day clothes. After wandering for a short period of time, Harry found himself in front of a small shop, 'Madam Hilda's Fine Robes for the Everyday Witch and Wizard.'

"Hello there, anything I can help you with?"

The girl running the store was surprisingly young, no older than twenty-five, and Harry doubted this was 'Madam Hilda,' and was more likely an employee. He cleared his throat quickly before speaking, "Yeah, um, I was looking for a particular type of cloak, and I'm wondering if you have it in stock." Seeing he had her interest, he continued, "Nothing special, really, just a simple black traveling cloak, with a hood, if possible."

The blond haired witch seemed to consider for a moment. "Well, we have a few things, let me get a few examples." The girl efficiently went around the shop and collected several different pieces, before beckoning him to the front counter. "Now this," she said while holding an extravagant silk wizarding cloak, "Is fairly expensive, but comes with a lot of extra features--"

Harry tried to stop the full bore sales pitch. "Sorry, I'm looking for something much cheaper; the wallet's tight, you know?" That wasn't entirely true, as Harry had a fair amount of gold in his vault, but after paying for his schooling there wouldn't be much for expensive leisure items, and Harry wasn't going to waste it on a cloak he may destroy.

From the look of disappointment on her face, Harry could tell she was paid on commission.

"Oh, ok then take a look at these…" She showed him a plain black wizarding cloak made of a simple type of cloth, but with it easily reaching to the floor it seemed very impractical. Also, it had to be put on over the head, which didn't suit Harry's purposes.

"Do you have something that reaches to about my knees and opens up in the front?"

"Oh, I may have what you're looking for, but it doesn't have a hood," Noticing his flash of disappointment, she tried to save the sale. "But we can easily add one afterwards… for a small fee, of course." She quickly led him to another section. "Now this is a new product, very popular in Eastern Europe and North America, but hasn't really caught on here."

The 'new product' seemed almost like a trench coat, with three large silver buckles on the chest to hold the coat shut; it definitely had a very muggle look to it, and even had a stylish collar that was not found on most wizarding robes. Plus, it seemed to be made of light but durable leather.

"This one is really good for winter days, 'cause it would take one hell of a bloody storm to soak through, and protects fairly well against the wind. It would also be easy to add in the hood at the bottom of the collar."

"Sounds perfect." Harry considered for a moment, "Also, I need a pair of gloves -- ones that won't interfere with hand movement."

"Oh, you'll be wanting a pair of duellers gloves then; very light leather, lots of freedom of movement, and won't get in the way of casting spells."

The gloves were a simple white with a black design on the back of the hands, which Harry liked.

"How long will it take to sew in the hood?" He asked curiously.

"Oh, not long, about ten minutes."

Harry watched as she flew into well practiced spells, quickly measuring, cutting, and sewing a hood out of some thick fabric, which seemed similar to most muggle sweaters, and in no time at all, she was finished.

"Ok," She said from the front counter to gain his attention, "That's fourteen Galleons and seven sickles for the coat, with a three galleon fee for the custom job, and five galleons and four sickles for the gloves, totalling… ninteen galleons and eleven sickles total."

He paid her quickly, almost wincing at the lighter feeling to his wallet. "Thanks a lot."

"No problem, have a good day!" She waved goodbye cheerily, happy about a good sale and therefore a good commission.

XXX

Harry adjusted the many bags he was holding for what felt like the millionth time.

After leaving Madam Hilda's he had frequented many other stores, picking up everything from potions supplies to raw materials like metal and wood, all meant to be used in his private study sessions at some point. It was after he found himself tempted to buy an expansive and unnecessary set of carving tools that he forced himself to stop buying things, and begin to look for his friends, which he eventually found at the Three Broomsticks.

Apparently Crookshanks had tried it eat Scabbers again, because his two best friends were glaring daggers at one another over mugs of Butterbeer.

"Now now," he said in a voice of mock disapproval, "Play nice, children, or you'll get no treats."

"Harry, what are you doing here?" Hermione said in surprise. "Oh, you're going to be in so much trouble if you're caught!"

Whether by the teachers or Black, she was right in both situations. Oh well, he had needed supplies.

"Oh come on, aren't you at least happy to see me?" He asked in a hurt voice.

"Bloody hell, Harry, what are you carrying?" Ron was eying his many bags with curiosity.

"A little bit of a lot of different crap; its been a long morning." Harry pulled up a seat to their table and made himself comfortable. "What's good here?"

"Try the Butterbeer," Ron suggested after taking a sip of his drink, "Damn amazing stuff, if you ask me."

Quickly walking to the counter and buying a Butterbeer for himself, he settled back down at his friends table.

Hermione's concern got the better of her. "Honestly Harry, how did you sneak out of the Castle? I hope you didn't do anything stupid."

Harry just grinned over his mug. "Magic, of course."

Ron snorted behind his cup while Hermione shot him a look of disapproval.

"So," Harry said during a lull of conversation, "What did you guys do today?"

"Oh, lots of stuff,' Ron began, "Checked out the Honeydukes, the Shrieking Shack, and the Quidditch shop-- they're all pretty cool, I guess."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ron's mind has a very selective memory; we also went to the Post Office and the book store."

"Oh, and what were those like?" Harry asked in mild interest.

"Amazing! I don't think I've ever seen so many owls in one place-- there were hundreds." She went on to explain all the interesting books she had seen, their authors, and every little factoid about their creation.

Harry quickly lost his mild interest.

"I should head back," Harry interrupted while checking his watch, "The feast is starting in thirty minutes, and my route back takes a long ass time." They all picked up their assorted bags and made their way out, "I'll see you guys inside."

XXX

The Halloween Feast had been predictably delicious, with treats practically overflowing from the table in between the main courses, and Ron had been practically salivating with all the different choices. Oh well, growing boys and all that.

Just as the food disappeared and everyone prepared to leave, Dumbledore stood up at the staff table, gaining the attention of every gathered. "Now, I know we are all quite satisfied and wish to crawl into a comfortable bed for the night, but I have a very special announcement." He paused for a moment to let the murmurs of curiosity buzz through the crowd.

"It has been brought to my attention that some of the student body is interested in reinstating last years Duelling Club--" Dumbledore once again paused for the excited whispers; Harry himself felt his pulse quicken at his words. "So, due to popular demand, starting this Monday the newly refurbished room three-oh-one will be open from four pm until nine pm, and third years and above are invited to participate. A group effort has been made by the staff, and several teachers will be overseeing the Club and its activities." Dumbledore paused once again to let the new information sink in. "Now, I'm sure you're all very tired, so if you'll follow your prefects to your dorms… I bid you all goodnight!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed the long queue of Gryffindors up to the common room, but stopped in surprise when they saw the long line of people in front of the portrait, with no one entering. Eventually though, a deathly silence spread through the crowd. His curiosity getting the better of them, Harry pushed past a few students to see what was wrong, and what he saw made his blood run cold; where the Fat Lady had once sat there was now only ripped canvas and startled students.

After a time, Dumbledore came rushing through the crowd to investigate. With one look at the painting, he turned to McGonagall, Snape, and Lupin. "We need to find her. Minerva, I want you to find Mr Filch and tell him to search every painting in the castle--"

A high pitched cackling filled the area, and everyone turned to see Peeves floating nearby. "Oh, it won't do you any good; she ran off in tears, saying she'd never come back to guard the stupid painting."

"Did she say who did this?" Dumbledore asked.

"Oh, yes, Professorhead," said Peeves, with an air of someone cradling a large Bombshell in their hands. "He got very angry when she wouldn't let him in, you see," Peeves grinned at Dumbledore, "Nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black."

XXX

Author's Note:

Well, it appears I have disappointed my readers once again, and taken forever to update. Despite there being many reasons for this, I will not list them, and instead apologize profusely.

Now, as for this chapter, I reserve the right to say it is full of fail and should die in a fire. Despite spending a _very _long time trying to fix it, I still feel it is sub par and will offend all of you. Plus, it was a little bit shorter than usual, a fact which annoys me greatly.

As for the shopping scene, I didn't want to put that in there, but it felt needed; Harry needs to get supplies from somewhere, and thus has to shop. I promise he won't go on some pointless and extravagant splurge, buying magical trunks with every feature in existence, a magical tattoo, a master potions set, or any other pointless crap meant to make him look rich.

Never.

Anyway, same rules as last chapter apply; rate out of 10 and point out anything that sticks out to you, whether bad or good.


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